7 Steps
by Lbug84
Summary: Peetha Mellark, first generation Indian-American, is expected to settle down, and soon. Torn between his marrying out of obligation and finding love on his own, he must learn to find balance. When he meets the girl with a dark braid, will she help him find it? Tags: Hinduism, intercaste relationship, I messed with their ethnicities and their religions.
1. Prologue

Hello and thank you for reading.

If you follow me on tumblr (HazlenutMacchiato) then you already know I've been kicking around the idea of an Indian Everlark story for a while. It's inspired in part by my own immersion in South Indian culture and interracial/intercultural marriage (I've been with my hubby for nearly 8 years now and I speak enough Telugu to know when I'm being spoken _about). _But, this story is a work of complete fiction. Suzanne Collins made the characters, I just mess around with their ethnicities and make them have sex ;)

Thank you to _MockingJayFlyingFree_ for helping me brainstorm and generally being the best beta a girl could ask for. Thank you to _Chelzie_ for helping me name Peetha. Thank you to _Passionately_Curious_ for prereading and helping me work out plot issues that come later in the story. Lastly, thank YOU for joining me on this journey. This'll be another long one :)

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Prologue: Upanayana

_**"Oh my child. This sacred thread is purified and will lead you to a knowledge of the absolute."**_

Rydvic removes his Nehru collared shirt and smiles as he hands it to me. I accept it, folding it properly, and watch as he readies himself for the ritual. He's freshly bathed, his head shaved completely bald. The white cloth of his new pancha is wrapped around his waist, exposing his chest. His feet are uncovered as he finds a seated position on a cushion on the floor.

"You should try to relax," he says quietly. He runs his hands through over his now smooth scalp before bringing them to settle in his preferred Anjuli, with his palms pressed together and his ring fingers down.

I shake my head at myself for adding to the tension. Today is Ry's upanayana, not mine.

"I'm fine," I lie. I _am_ nervous. I'm just not sure why. Maybe it's because despite being eighteen years old, I'm not yet a man among the people I love the most. And I won't be until I've had my thread ceremony. It's an important rite of passage that every young man must go through. Right now, it's Ry's turn. "This is your day." I hesitate to get dressed, holding an ornate blue button between my fingers, and try not to sigh aloud. The brightly colored lungis never appealed to me. I'd prefer to dress in beige.

But, Amma insisted.

The upanayana ceremony is simple enough, especially when it takes place here in Queens. The temple is small, but beautifully decorated with large sculptures made of soap stone dotting the hallways and brass twisted into Ohms adorning the walls. My parents have invited the usual guests: friends they grew up with back in Andrah Pradesh, and their children the same age as us. There are a few random people in attendance, of course, such as investors in my parents' restaurant. They're here, mostly interested in the opportunity to attend a traditional Hindu ceremony. I always find their presence off-putting, since they have no idea what's going on. I barely understand it myself.

Amma knocks on the door and doesn't wait for a response before entering. She's wearing a blue sari, the shade nearly identical to what I'm wearing. The corners of her eyes wrinkle slightly and she smiles just a little as her eyes fall on me.

"Are you ready yet? Come." She enters the room and steps towards Ry.

He peels himself from the floor and leans down, letting Amma hold his face in her hands. He's at least a foot taller than her, so it's an awkward motion. "So handsome." She smiles proudly and nods her head.

Ry takes after our father, who was born and raised in a small village in Andhra Pradesh. His eyes are a chocolate brown and his skin a caramel color. I favor mother, who is half Nepali, but still Brahmin (or Bahun, as she calls it) and is of Pashtun ancestry. We have the same fair skin and light eyes and our hair is a golden brown that only gets lighter when we're out in the sun for too long. Which, of course, we never are. The countless hours we all spend running the family business rob us of sunshine.

"The Chopra family has arrived," Amma tells Ry, still looking into his eyes with awe.

Newly on the guest list are the parents of Ry's betrothed, Saloni. She's 22 years old, and arrived on a student visa. But, she'll require an American husband to stay in the country. Since Ry and I were born here in New York City, this gives us an advantage in our 'eligibility.'

Amma did consider postponing his ceremony to tie it in to the wedding. But, Ry's already 24 years old and as a Brahmin, a member of the highest caste, there are expectations. Besides, this ceremony gives her an opportunity to show off her party planning skills for her new family members.

Ry goes along with whatever Amma wants. I do, too. Mostly.

Amma turns to me, a suspicious look in her eye. "Saloni has a little sister. You should dance with her later."

I don't want my mother to fix me up. I'm a freshman in college and I just want to... date. Not that I haven't dated in high school. I did, technically. But they were all arranged by Amma.

"Maybe." I shrug my shoulders, not committing to anything.

Amma releases Ry's face and is quickly in front of me. "When are you going to find a _nice_ _girl_, like your brother?" She gestures to Ry and I stifle a groan.

Not this again. "When I meet one."

She shakes her head disapprovingly at me and turns away. "You think I don't know what you do with those girls you see at your school?"

I don't answer. I'm not a virgin. So what? What Amma doesn't know is that the first girl I slept with wasn't an American in college, but one of the "nice girls" she set me up with in high school. And I wasn't that nice girl's first.

"Come now. The priest is ready to begin." She's out the door without another word.

I sigh in relief when she leaves, but tense up again as I feel a hand on my shoulder. "You do want to get married. Don't you, Peetha?" Ry's voice is filled with concern.

I take a deep breath before answering. "I think so. Maybe. But, I want to finish college first." Ry furrows his brow. "And I want to try to find a wife myself." Try? I sound like such a fucking pansy. My hand comes up to rub the back of my neck. "Why... Why are you letting Amma pick your wife?"

He smiles at me. "I'm not. I'm picking."

"But she introduced you."

"Yeah, she did. She introduced me to a lot of girls. This one happens to makes sense."

I shake my head. "That sounds so impersonal."

"It has to be a good match for both of the families."

"What about what _you_ want?"

"What _I _want?" He furrows his brow, confused, and I nod my head, encouraging him to speak. "I want... Stability... I want fidelity..."

"And you think you're going to get that from a stranger?"

He shrugs a shoulder. "We're only strangers in some ways."

His words carry weight for me. Whoever I marry, whether I meet someone on my own or my mother arranges it, that person is a stranger to me today.

The golden statues surround the room, draped with fresh flowers. The room is brightly lit and smells of sandalwood. I'm in my proper place, kneeling beside my mother as the priest says his prayers. Her eyes are closed as she listens to his words. My father is on the other side of her, stoic through the ceremony, waiting for his cue. Sometimes I think he finds it all as over the top as I do.

Ry is unmarried, so the priest places a single thread, a jenoi, split into three strings on his head. Each string represents Ry's debts, his burdens. The prayer continues, a mix of Hindi and Sanskrit, that I don't understand. But, I know what's happening.

It's Ry's turn to speak. He repeats the priest's word promising to be a good boy, promising to learn, accepting the full weight of his varna, his obligation as a Brahmin. Ry is now twice-born, a full member of the religious community.

His future in-laws nod their approval.

I turn my head to the side and my eyes find Delhi, the daughter of my father's business associate, among the guests. She's wearing a brightly colored punjabi suit and her hair is pulled back into a tight bun. She looks so different than she does on campus, when her curls are loose and her smile is wide. I didn't know she'd be here today, but I'm not surprised by her presence either. We grew up together, after all. And she's at NYU now, same as me. I rarely see her though, unless it's at one of these events.

When she smiles at me, I return it.

Her gaze doesn't linger, and neither does mine.

The ceremony is over before I get lost in thought. As Ry stands, I watch him walk over to Saloni and greet her. They don't kiss, or embrace. No, that wouldn't be proper. I don't expect anything different, but it's their awkward exchange of smiles that gets me thinking. Ry seemed so confident, so sure of his decision before the ceremony. And now... I shake my head as I try to make sense of their interaction. They're barely acquainted. And yet, they're choosing to build a life together. Sure, they have the same expectations of marriage, but is that enough? What about the things the doctrine has no way of preparing you for?

I wonder if Ry's making the right decision. I wonder if Amma knows best.

"You're next, boy!" Uncle's voice rings through the air.

He's not really my uncle. He's another friend of the family, a respected member of the community. At least he used to be. He's a known alcoholic, and his once prestigious reputation is now tarnished. At this point, I think he just shows up to these things for the free food. Like Amma, Uncle Haymitch's skin is fair. Unlike Amma, his eyes are gray.

"I suppose I am," I agree. And it could be the truth, if I allow it. Should I let my parents arrange a marriage for me, that is.

"You don't sound sure of that," he comments.

I shrug my shoulders. I'm _not_ sure. Will I spend years searching, unhappy and alone if I resist them?

I just don't know.

"I'm not sure," I echo my own thoughts.

Haymitch nods his head. "You know, boy. This ceremony is supposed to grant you with the _knowledge_ _of_ _the_ _absolute_." He lets out a hearty chuckle. "But in all my years, I find it's the humble man, who can admit there are things he doesn't know, that is the most knowledgeable."

I smile at his words. He still sees me as a boy. But, maybe that will soon change.

Amma beckons, nodding her head in the direction of the Chopra family. I decide to go along with it.

At least for now.

.

.

.

.

.

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I hope you enjoyed meeting Peetha!

Please follow/fav/review. And if you follow me on tumblr, you'll also get drabbles for this story that I won't be publishing anywhere else. So come, look at funny pictures, do a fitness challenge with me, and get more of this story! I'm HazlenutMacchiato.


	2. Resources and Comforts

Happy Friday!

Please forgive the delay in getting this story started. I nearly scrapped the project (which MJFF, Mitches, and Lulu have talked me out of) because I was having trouble balancing out the New York and South Indian cultures enough to let you all simply enjoy the story. I'm still not quite sure I've got it right, but I figure I'll turn it over to you all and you can let me know if this story is something you'd like me to continue.

The title of the story, 7 steps, is inspired by the 7 steps taken during a Hindu marriage ceremony. And so, the next 7 chapters of this story will each begin with a vow, that Everlark will in one way or another fulfill.

I hope you enjoy!

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**"May this couple be blessed with an abundance of resources and comforts, and be helpful to one another in all ways."**

I walk back to the dorms from Silver Hall alone. It's Tuesday, the first day of the semester, and it's been exhausting. The weather isn't helping either. The air is still hot and sticky and everyone - for better or worse - is wearing shorts. I weave through the blocks, keeping my eyes trained on the girl ahead of me. Her hair is wavy, dark, intricately woven across the back of her head and draped over her shoulder. I've never seen her face, but she's walking towards my dorm. So I follow, a block behind her, and I watch her walk home.

I watch her walk home everyday day.

The week passes in a blur. It's a Thursday afternoon and I've been staring out of the window of my organic chemistry lab for the past hour, earning constant death glares from my lab partner.

"Pita?" He butchers my name. But it's close enough that it gets my attention. "You okay? We have to finish this experiment."

"Yeah, sorry. I got distracted." By the sunny outdoors. By the prospect of a long walk home. By the idea of seeing that girl again. "And it's 'Pee-tha," I correct. The 'th' in my names sounds more like a "d." I don't expect him to get it right away.

"Sorry," he apologizes. But I simply shake my head and turn my attention back to the experiment.

When class finally ends, I'm first to step out into hallway. My thoughts immediately drift to the girl, but I can't figure out why. There's nothing innately special about our interaction... or lack there of. I must have the same wordless relationship with dozens of people - the same familiar faces, backpacks, or shoes I see as I meander through my routine. I take the stairs, nodding my head once in the direction of the security guard as I exit the building. I make a right, and my heart quickens as I catch sight of her, exactly where I expected her to be. She's exited Silver Hall before me, and she's a block ahead as she takes the same path back to our dorm. She's my neighbor, and we obviously have similar schedules, but I don't try to meet her. I don't try to meet anyone. I like my walks home and I don't want to run into anyone I know.

Living on campus, you always run into someone you know.

In a lot of ways, it's like it is in the old neighborhood. The streets are crowded, narrow, and filled with people- all busy, focused, and stuck in their routines. It's shoulder to shoulder back home, in Jackson Heights, but it's not much better here. NYU's campus is the city after all and I know these streets. The Village has become my stomping grounds. When I'm here, I feel like I can breathe. It's not until I go back home that I feel the weight of my uncertainty. Pressure from my brother, disappointment from my parents. Sometimes it's too much to bear.

I just started my junior year and moved into 3rd North, to a suite on the 6th floor. I have 5 other suite mates, but I only share my bedroom with one, my best friend Finnick Odair. It's a decent sized room, I guess, with white walls, harsh lighting, two twin beds, two desks, and a life-sized cardboard cutout of a young Tyra Banks.

I lift my bag higher on my shoulders, cursing the weight of each textbook I have to carry. I cross Broadway and quicken my pace to keep my current distance from the girl with the dark braid. As I reach the curb, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I roll my eyes as I see who's calling. It's Ry...and I already know what he's calling about.

I accept his call. "Cheppu?"

I hear the fast paced complaints of Saloni in the background. "Saloni says you didn't call Ratha after your date."

I stand on the corner, uninterested in what Saloni has to say. "Does she?"

I've been able to resist being set up with Ry's sister-in-law for over two years...until about a month ago, when Ry and Saloni decided they wouldn't take no for an answer.

"Well, did you?"

I sigh heavily, mostly for Ry's benefit. "I'm not doing this right now." Something golden around the wrist of the girl ahead of me catches my eye. A bracelet? I didn't notice that before.

"Peetha-"

"I'll see you this weekend."

I hang up the phone and huff out a breath, tucking it into my pocket. I push through the doors of the dorm just as the girl steps into the elevators the end of the corridor in front of me. The door swings shut behind me, bumping my shoulder in the process. It's not until the loud thud of my books hitting the floor echoes through the hallway that I realize the strap on my backpack has broken...and that all of my belongings have tumbled out. I sigh heavily as I kneel down and begin to collect my papers.

It's the faint smell of vanilla that first gets my attention. I look up, papers in hand and find her kneeling down in front of me. She sets her bag down on the floor, and then helps me collect my papers.

"Uh...thanks," I say, unable to tear my eyes away find her face. She's quite beautiful, with olive skin and silver eyes.

"Sure," she says as she hands me a stack of papers.

"Oh," I shake my head once and accept them.

"I can fix that for you," she offers. She gestures to her own bag, which is clearly overflowing. I watch as she opens it and fishes around for something in the pouch. I spy a roll of masking tape, a tin of altoids, pens, bandages... it's a never-ending supply of resources in there. "I used to have a Kipling too," she says as she reaches for my backpack, still hanging on one of my shoulders.

"You did?" I allow her to remove it from me and keep quiet. I want to hear her voice again.

"I did." Her accent...I can't place it. "Mine was a piece of junk too." She laughs, a beautiful melodic sound. A few errant strands of hair have come loose from her braid and so she tucks them behind her ear as she settles into the floor in front of me. She bites her bottom lip ever so gently as she fastens a large safety pin to the torn edges of the strap of my backpack. "There. That should hold you."

She smiles at me, but I don't return it. I don't speak at all, in fact. I just sit there, like an idiot, staring at her as she holds my bag out to me. She frowns slightly, but then she simply sets it down on the floor in front of me. It's not until she's retrieved her bag and and stood up again that I clear my throat.

"Thank you. Again."

"No problem," she says as she turns away.

I tuck the papers and textbooks back into my bag as quickly as I can, but I hear the ding of the elevator doors. By the time I look up, she's gone. "Loser," I mutter to myself as I press the elevator button again. A beautiful lady helps me out and I just stand there leering at her. She must think I'm a creep.

Thankfully the entire suite is empty when I get home. I flop down on my bed and feel the weight of the day on my entire body. I shut my eyes and try to sleep.

I can't have been out for more than a few minutes when I feel a pillow hit the back of my head. I'm not yet awake enough to move out of the way. Or to snatch it away. Or to break my roommate's hand.

"Peetha! Get up!"

I reluctantly open my eyes.

"You've been asleep for hours."

Really? "So?"

"So, get up."

"Leave me alone. I had a four-hour lab this afternoon." The semester just started, but I'm already swamped.

"You didn't drop that class yet?"

I shake my head. I hate chemistry, but my parents won't pay for a degree in art. It's bad enough I go to NYU and not an Ivy League University. So, I'm working toward the degree of their choosing: a Bachelor of Science in Chemistry. But my plate is full. Too full. I'm signed up for 18 credits this semester. I'll have to drop something.

"Come on, dude. Get the hell up. I'm hungry."

"So go eat something." I turn away and shut my eyes again.

"But I want Indian food. And we ran out of your mom's leftovers two days ago."

I sit straight up. "Nick, we're not going all the way out to Queens right now." My mother loves Finnick, so she always sends me home with more comfort food than I could ever eat alone, but once a week at home is about all I can take.

"No shit. It's a Thursday."

I sigh in relief. No arguments this time.

Finnick moves over to his side of the room and sits on his bed. He slides his feet into his sneakers. "I want to go to Indian row." Over on 6th St. there's an entire block filled with Indian restaurants. "But I can never remember which spot is the right one. They all look the same."

He's right. There's a 'Raj Mahal' right next to a 'Taj Mahal.'

"I need your expertise," Finnick says with a wave of his hand.

Since my parents own a restaurant out in Jackson Heights, I'm the authority on Indian cuisine among my friends. "Just pick one." I scrub my face with my hands. "If they spell 'paneer' with two Es, you'll probably be okay."

"You're not hungry?"

"Not really."

Finnick looks at me and his lips twist into a smirk. "My treat."

I push myself up. "Alright. Let's go"

I leave the dorm wearing a ripped pair of jeans and a faded T-shirt with Captain America's shield on it. My mother would never approve of such dress, but she's not here and I'm comfortable. Finnick talks my ear off about the Yankees as we walk, totally unaware of the stares we command from women we pass on the street. He's Cuban, and he's got a thing for Indian girls, so those are the only ones he tends to notice.

I'm sweating by the time we turn onto 6th street. I can't remember which restaurant here is the right one either, so I just dart into the first place I see with a closed door. Because closed doors mean air conditioning. We seat ourselves and I immediately gulp at the water our young, smiling waitress sets down on the table for us. The cups are metal and cool my hands, and I've downed the entire thing before she even speaks.

"Can I get you something to drink?" I sigh in satisfaction and set my cup down on the table. "Something more, I mean?" She laughs.

Finnick sets down his menu. "I'll have a mango lassi and the chicken tee-kia-"

"Chicken tikka masala," the waitress corrects. She takes out her notepad, realizing were ready to order. "Mild, medium, or hot?"

"Medium," Finnick smiles.

"Make his mild," I say. I give him a look. "Come on, dude. We share a bathroom."

Finnick rolls his eyes, but he doesn't insist.

"And for you, handsome?"

I grown inwardly as the girl leans forward, her hands flat on the table, giving me a clear view of her cleavage, and smiles at me. "More water, and a bottle of Kirin please... and I'll have the Aloo Gobi, medium spicy." I can handle the pickle my mother makes at home, but I don't fuck around too much at restaurants.

"Bread?"

Finnick leans in. "Do they make poori here?" He loves my mother's poori recipe. Actually, it's my recipe. I would make it for my suite mates, but what NYU calls a kitchenette would make any baker sad. We've got a microwave, and a stovetop, but no oven. I wonder why that is.

"No, they have naan here. You liked it last time."

"Okay. Let's get some then."

"Be right back with your drinks." Our waitress smiles at me again and then winks before she walks away. Finnick watches as she disappears into the back.

I look around the small dimly lit restaurant. The booths are a deep green color and are spaced too close together, but it's fine since it's pretty empty in here right now. Towards the front of the restaurant, there's an area near the window that overlooks the street, where a sitar rests unused. When the restaurant is busier, there's live music. My parents have a similar set-up, actually. My mother will play the veena until her fingers bleed to please her customers.

"She likes you, man."

"What?" I ask.

Finnick gestures to the waitress, who is speaking to the chef, but still staring at me.

"Yeah, probably." I shrug a shoulder.

"You should get her number."

"Nah, I'm cool." I shake my head.

"Still not dating Indian girls?"

"I'm not _not_ dating them. I just haven't found one I'm interested in." Although ...I would consider the girl with the dark braid. I think she's Indian. I shake my head. What does that matter, anyway? "Everyone I meet is either looking to arrange a marriage for themselves or is an undercover whore."

Finnick smiles. "So... Too serious or not serious enough?"

"Yeah, or disproportionally bitchy."

"I don't know. That chick, Clove, your mother set you up with last year was pretty hot."

"Yeah, but she blew me in a cab ten minutes after meeting me. On the way to dinner."

"So?"

"So, I'm not interested." Finnick gives me a look and I roll my eyes. "Don't get me wrong. It was good head. I'm just not taking a girl like that seriously."

Finnick laughs. "Well, I am happy to take your cast-offs. Like this chick. She's hot."

He doesn't need my castoffs. Finnick does alright for himself. "Have fun."

"Peetha?" I hear a sweet voice float through the air. I turn my head towards the sound and I smile.

"Hey, Delhi!"

I stand up and grab her hand, greeting her with air kisses on either cheek. She's been into that ever since she studied a semester in Paris sophomore year.

"I thought that was you," she says. "I just randomly looked in here."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm going out to dinner with my roommate." She gestures towards the door. The restaurant is a half level down, as are all the restaurants on this street. Her roommate stands on the sidewalk, facing away but I can see her from the shoulder down. I can make out a pair of jean shorts, a dark green shirt... and a long dark braid. My heart beats faster. "She works at this vegan restaurant over on first." I squint, trying to get a better look at her, another glimpse at those silver eyes. But she 's on her phone and she doesn't turn towards me. "You?"

"The same." I gesture to Finnick. "This is-"

"I'm Nick," Finnick purrs. "Nice to meet you." I roll my eyes as he tries to turn up the charm.

"Nice to meet you too." Delhi turns back to me, surprisingly uninterested in Finnick. "How's the semester?"

"Good. You?"

"Good." She bites her bottom lip. "Did you hear about Thom?"

"Thom?" I roll my eyes. Our friend Thom, née _Darwish_, is from our neighborhood and changed his name on his eighteenth birthday to something more "American sounding."

"Give him a break. He changed it legally," Delhi says. I can't stop a chuckle. "Well, he's getting married. Engagement party's in a few weeks." I nod my head and smile politely.

Delhi narrows her eyes at me. "Amma mentioned that you might be attending-without a date, I mean?"

Finnick laughs under his breath and I shoot him a look.

"I didn't get an invitation," I say.

"They probably sent it to your parents' house." I shrug my shoulders. They probably did. "So...I'll see you there?"

"Oh. Um... Maybe."

"Great." She smiles. "Ill text you sometime this week, if I don't see you."

"Sure. I can let you know if I'm going then."

She smiles at me, as though she knows something I don't. "I should get going. See you later, Peetha."

"Bye."

I sit back down at the table and Finnick stares at me.

"What?"

"Who was that?" He points at the open door Delhi is approaching.

"Delhi? She lives in our building."

"No, I meant _her_."

I look over my shoulder and I find her eyes, sparkling in the evening light and piercing mine. She smiles, just a little bit when she sees me and my mouth falls open. "I-I don't know...Delhi's roommate I guess." The girl with the dark braid turns away and Delhi hooks their elbows together, pulling her away from the restaurant.

"And what is wrong with her?" Finnick asks.

I turn back to face him. "With who?"

"Delhi."

"Nothing's wrong with her."

"Then why aren't you fucking her?"

I widen my eyes. "We grew up together. I'm not interested in her like that."

"Well, she's interested in you."

The waitress sets down Finnick's lassi and her eyes dart over to the door before she sets down my beer. Finnick watches the interaction with a smirk.

"I'll be right back with your food."

I force a smile. "Thanks."

Finnick clears his throat. "Be right back, Peeta." He stands from the table. "I'm gonna go cheer our waitress up."

"Get me another beer," I say. I chug the bottle in several gulps.

X

It's only 7:30 when my alarm goes off, but I wake up alone in the room. Finnick has a Saturday lecture and so I find myself with a few hours to kill before trekking out to Queens. I pack up my laptop and decide to spend the morning holed up in the Starbucks over on Astor. It's early enough that if I leave now, I can get one of the comfy chairs.

The mornings are cooler, but it's still hot. Summer hasn't quite ended and, in New York City, summer is both beautiful and excruciating. You don't realize how many exposed metal surfaces there are - poles bearing parking signs or screws on the banisters of the steps leading down into the subway - until the temperatures reach their extremes.

I'm wearing khaki shorts and a white T-shirt today, something I can wear back home without catching shit. It's a short walk to the coffee shop, but I'm already sweating as I yank open the door. The cashier places my order for a venti iced coffee and then her eyes drift past mine and she waves to someone standing behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see her. Again. Her hair is still braided, but the rest of her wardrobe is far more relaxed. She's wearing jean shorts, much shorter this time, and an oversized shirt that exposes one of her shoulders. I try not to let my gaze linger on her smooth skin and turn away.

"Do you know how she likes her coffee?" I ask.

The cashier smiles. "Yeah. She's in here all the time."

I add an iced grande soy vanilla latte with a pump of toffee to my bill for the girl. I move to the end of the bar without trying to make eye contact and eagerly reach out when the barista hands me my drink. Then I sink down onto one of the leather chairs and open my laptop. The damn thing has barely connected to the wifi here when I hear that sweet, melodic voice ring through the air.

"Thank you."

I allow my eyes to drift up and meet hers. She holds up her coffee and and smiles at me. My throat goes dry at the sight of her, so I nod once in acknowledgment.

She chuckles quietly at me as she turns away. I try to say something to stop her, but I can't find the words. I watch her leave, and roll my eyes at myself. "Stupid."

X

Finnick meets me at the subway. The A train is all the way over on 8th avenue, and since he's not sweating, I guess he took the crosstown bus to get here. I prefer to walk. I use the time to help me prepare myself for the drastic change that's about to happen in my surroundings. It's hot as hell down here on the subway platform and Finnick and I lean against a column, using the signs above our heads as markers. When we get off the train on the other side, we'll exit right by the stairs. The 14th Street station is bright yellow and decorated with fat faceless little men made of bronze. They signal the beginning of my journey home.

Finnick is seemingly unaware of my growing tension, and for that I'm grateful. Instead, he takes the time to talk shit about our new suitemates.

"I don't know what that dude Cato eats, but from the way he blew up the bathroom, I know it's way worse than the Indian food we had the other night."

That's nasty.

"I think we should ask your mother for incense or something."

I shake my head. It may sound strange, but I relish the smell of the dorm room. Cleaning products masking the odors of sweat and sex. I really need it not to smell like home. "Let's just get some air freshener or baking soda or something," I suggest.

"Whatever." Finnick continues to tell me about his interactions with our suitemates as we change trains. I let him talk about how Thresh knows where to get good green, Cato is banging some blonde chick, Beetee's a nerd who mostly keeps to himself, and how Chaff drank up all of our liquor. By the time we're on the E train, the crowd has changed. Old women carrying bags of vegetables replace the young coed crowd of the NYU area.

Walking through the streets of Jackson Heights is only a taste of what it's like in Hyderabad, but it's crowded just the same. The chatter is a mix of English, Telugu and Hindi and since there aren't many animals on the road in Hyderabad anymore, it's not a crazy comparison to make. I've only been "home" a handful of times - six to be exact. Perhaps my vision is skewed, but the biggest difference I see in navigating the streets is that drivers here generally follow the rules of the road. I'm not even sure there _are_ rules of the road in Hyderabad. New York is a walker's city. Sure, we have pedestrian accidents here - especially over on Queens Boulevard, since it's 12 lanes wide. But it's nothing like it is in Hyderabad.

My parents live on a quieter block, in a large brick apartment building surrounded by trees. It's not fancy; there's no doorman or concierge, but it's one of the nicer buildings on the block. Everything my parents have ever needed is within walking distance from here: grocery store, temple, our restaurant, a theater that shows Telugu movies. Even my elementary and high schools were close by.

We take the elevator to the top floor. Immediately, the smell of sambhar floats through the air, a mixture of fresh tomatoes, squash, lentils, and spices. It smells like home. I'd be lying if I said it didn't make my mouth water every time.

"Your mom's cooking!" Finnick beams as he shuffles his feet through the hallway.

I nod my head and reach for my keys in my pocket. The door opens before I find them.

"There's my boy!"

Amma reaches out and takes my face in her hands. I allow her. I was home just two weekends ago, but she looks at me as though she hasn't seen me in years.

"Hi Amma," I smile.

"Hello, Peetha. How's school?"

"It's good. How are you? How's Dad?"

"We are well." Amma releases my face. "Your father is out getting a new antenna for the television. The last one was broken and he couldn't get it up."

Finnick snickers, unable to hide his amusement. English is my mother's fourth language and though she has a fairly good command of it, she doesn't always understand the double entendres she accidentally puts together. Amma's eyes follow the sound of the laughter and drift past me. "Hello, Nicky."

"Hey, Mrs. M.," Finnick greets her. "Didn't Peetha get you a Roku player?"

"He did. But if we want to watch the news, then we need regular channels." She motions for us to enter the apartment. "Come, it's almost time to eat."

Finnick's eyes brighten at that. He's always ready to eat. We step inside the apartment. Once inside, we see Rydvic and Saloni standing in the living room. He's holding his hand in hers, but she quickly pulls away when she sees us.

"Hey, maridi," she greets me. "Hey, Nick."

"Hi Saloni," Finnick and I say in unison.

Saloni stands, and heads into the kitchen, where Amma is already there, dicing vegetables.

"Thammadu!" Ry all but shouts as I step into the living room.

"Hey, Ry." Finnick and I sit on the couch on the opposite side of the room. There's a clear coffee table between us, decorated with Amma's Ganesh figurines. The cream colored walls bear years of family photos. It's amazing how much a person can change in just a few years. I barely recognize myself in some of them.

"So... Why didn't you call Rekha after your date?"

I roll my eyes as I settle into my seat. "You don't waste any time, huh?"

"I just want to know," he defends.

I sigh heavily and gesture with my hands as I speak. "It wasn't a date. You said you wanted me to keep her occupied while she was home for the summer and I did."

"Don't you want companionship?" Ry asks.

Finnick snorts. "He gets plenty of company."

"Shut the hell up, Nick!" I yank one of the pillows from behind me and toss it his way. I don't need him detailing my exploits. Not here, not to Ry. Besides, there haven't been _that_ many girls.

"You need to consider this, Peetha. For real. Who will take care of you when you get sick?"

"I will," Finnick offers.

"Thanks, but I'm never so sick that I need taking care of," I object. "I haven't even thrown up since high school."

"Really? That's kind of impressive," Finnick says.

Ry's eyes dart back and forth between us. "So if you were stuck on a desert island for 50 years, what? You'd be there with Nick?"

"Why would I be stuck on a desert island?"

"Realistically, we would never be there for 50 years," Finnick interjects.

"Yeah," I agree. "After 20 minutes I'd make a bow and arrow and kill you."

"A bow and arrow, huh?" Finnick rubs his chin as he thinks. "Reminds me, we should check out the archery meet sometime."

"Why?" I ask.

"I hear the girls are really good this year," he explains.

"Peetha, I'm serious." Ry leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He's determined to discuss whatever's on his mind. Right now. My smile disappears as I listen to him speak. "You just turned 21-"

"You were 24 when you got married," I point out.

"And that was a mistake. I should've married sooner. Maybe then I'd-" he cuts himself off and shakes his head.

"Maybe then what?" Finnick asks. I slap his arm. Obviously, Ry is struggling to get the words out.

"Maybe then I'd be happy," Ry says quietly.

I turn my head towards him, eyes widened in surprise. It was clear to me since Ry's thread ceremony that he had mixed feelings...and I suspected He had second thoughts about his arrangement altogether. But to hear him admit it out loud? Well...I thought it would take years.

"You're not happy?" I ask, matching his tone.

He shakes his head, but he doesn't say "no." "We've been trying for a baby and it's just not happening. Maybe if we were younger..." he trails off, his voice breaking on the last word.

"You don't need a baby in order to be happy," I suggest. "You have each other." Ry shrugs his shoulders, unconvinced. "Besides, you're only in your mid-twenties."

"Amma and daddy married when they were sixteen."

"This isn't 1970, India!" I've spoken louder than I intended. I lean back, trying not to chastise Ry any further. "Why are you pushing me?"

"I just don't want you to have any regrets... like I do." He looks over his shoulder, making sure our conversation hasn't fallen on any other ears. Thankfully, Amma and Saloni are speaking quietly between themselves. "I should go help them with the chapati," Ry says. He pushes himself to stand.

Finnick and I watch as Ry joins his wife, a small sad smile playing on his lips as he approaches her. Finnick turns to me. He's the only common link between my two worlds, school and home. He gets things that no one else could possibly understand.

"Dude."

"I know," I agree.

"Dude."

"Shut up."

Finnick nods his head as he looks away. "That's... a lot of information."

"Seriously," I say. "Let's not talk about it right now."

X

I've dropped a useless sociology class and am settling nicely into my routine. I've also followed the girl with the dark braid home for two full weeks now and grown accustomed to her... presence. Fall hasn't yet come, and it's still warm enough that she wears those same jean shorts. I stare, shamelessly, at her ass. Sometimes she turns and catches me, and all I can do is return her knowing smile.

Today, as I walk home, my thoughts drift back to Ry's recent confession that he's not happy in his marriage...and that he's been trying unsuccessfully for a baby. If I try to see things from Amma's point of view, I suppose it is strange that they don't have a baby yet. But from where I am, I don't see the rush. I don't understand why they're not enjoying their time together, while it's just the two of them. They should be traveling, or partying, or doing things that their future lifestyle simply won't permit.

When I marry, I'm not entirely sure that I would need children. Don't get me wrong - of course I _want_ them. But, what if my future wife doesn't? Or what if we have difficulty, like Ry and Saloni? I'd like to think I could be happy living a life with a woman I chose, just us two. But maybe that's the difference between an arranged marriage, and a love marriage. A love marriage doesn't need a child for validation.

Does it?

The elevator doors have already closed on the girl with the dark braid braid by the time I enter 3rd North. I watch the elevator lights flicker up to 8, where I assume she lives, then flicker back down to G. I can smell vanilla as I step inside. I press the button and let my eyes wander around the elevator as I ride up to the 6th floor. On the ground something shiny catches my eye. I lean down and retrieve a golden bangle from the floor. I think it belongs to her. No, I'm certain it does. I shove it in my pocket. Next time I see her, I'll have a reason to say something. Maybe I'll even get her name.

I enter the suite, exhausted from a pointless history lecture and eager for a nap, only to find there's a sock on the knob of my bedroom door.

Shit.

Finnick has company. Probably the waitress from the restaurant.

The common area of our suite is narrow with white walls and no art, unless you count the crude pencil sketches I leave on the walls to entertain my suitemates. There are big windows that open up more than they should, considering how many of us bobcats decide to pitch ourselves off of buildings. I rest on what NYU calls a couch, but is really just wooden chairs with big blue cushions. I've napped here before, but it wasn't my best idea.

My phone rings before I even have the chance to sit down. There's no one in here, but the acoustics are terrible. To avoid the echo, I step out of the suite, and into the hallway to accept the call.

"Amma."

"Mail arrived last week, but daddy forgot to give it to you when you came home, so I will tell you about the party and you can tell me when you think you and Delhi will arrive."

That's my mother. No greetings. She's already in the middle of the conversation when you pick up the phone. And apparently, she's opened my mail.

"I don't know if-"

"Delhi is a _nice_ _girl_"

I sigh. "Yes, I know."

"The engagement party is here in Jackson Heights. The invitation says 7 but Mendhi is at 6 that Delhi will like."

"Yes, I'm sure she would, but Amma, I don't know if I want to-"

"You will escort her to the party."

"I'm not-"

"I already talked to her mother about this."

There's a silence that stretches forever. Unfortunately, I break first.

"Fine."

"Good."

She hangs up, without saying goodbye.

I lean against the wall, my shoulders slumped in defeat. Amma's determined to find a _nice_ _girl_ for me, despite her obvious inability to play matchmaker well. Ry was arranged. Now, look where he is.

I scroll through my phone book and I find Delhi's number. I decide to send her a text.

_Let's talk about the party._

Wait no. Too direct. I delete the message and try again.

_If you want to talk_

Already wrong. Delete.

_Want to grab something to eat?_

There. Perfect. Friendly and vague. Send.

The ding of the elevator gets my attention and I turn my head in time to see the doors open. A few people get off of the elevator that I've seen in passing, but don't really know. I nod my head at them as they walk by me.

My eyes drift back to the elevator door. Just as they're closing, I see the girl with the dark braid. She's changed her outfit, now wearing black pants and a white button down. I perk up and pull my back from the wall. I open and close my mouth a few times as I dig through my pocket. "Wait!" I finally manage. She presses the button to hold the doors open before even looking up to see who asked. I clear my throat and I extend my hand, holding the gold bangle in my palm. "This is yours." It's a statement, not a question.

Finally, she looks up. Her eyes widen in recognition as they fall on me. She smiles, and then her gaze drifts to my outstretched hand. "Yes, it is."

I step forward and lean against the wall outside of the elevator and hand her the bangle. She slides it onto her wrist with a look of relief in her face. The doors attempt to close, but she presses the button again.

"You look like you could use some air."

"Yeah," I nod. I step into the elevator.

The girl leans against the wall. My gaze is fixed on her slender fingers, as she plays with a keychain attached to her bag. I search for something, anything more to say to her.

"You smell really good." Shit. I shut my eyes tight and silently berate myself. I didn't mean to say _that._

"Um...Thanks?"

"Yeah...I mean, I can smell vanilla. I assumed it was you." Because she's too beautiful to not smell good too. I wonder what she smells like, underneath the fragrance. Maybe if I get closer... I take a step forward.

She chuckles quietly. "It's me. It's my shampoo."

"Well, _your_ _shampoo_ smells really good."

"Thanks...I like your shirt," she says.

"Oh." I look down. I'm wearing a gray shirt with the words "I Love Lamp" on it. "Thanks...have you seen the sequel?"

"No. I hear it's overrated."

The elevator doors open, and we continue our discussion as we walk.

"Maybe they waited too long?" I suggest. "Like they did with Men in Black 2."

"Yeah. But Men in Black 3 was good."

"True," I smile as I hold the door open for her. "You're Delhi's roommate, right?"

"I am." She makes a right and I follow her lead but keep in step with her. "She... speaks highly of you."

"That's good to hear. She's a _nice_ _girl_." A _nice_ _girl_ that my mother wants me to date, marry, have children, and live happily ever after with. I really need to change the subject. "Where are you headed?"

"Right here." She stops walking and gestures to the black sedan parked on the street.

"You have a car?" That's strange for a New Yorker. I didn't even have my drivers license until last year. I look over the vehicle. It's got New York plates.

"Yeah, well, you need one out on the island."

"You're from Long Island?" That explains the accent. Sort of. "I've got family out there." I say. Well, Saloni does anyway.

"Mmhmm. Well, by way of the Caribbean."

"You're from the Caribbean?" No, _that_ explains the accent.

"My dad is." She nods and she smiles. "Do you, um, need a ride somewhere?"

"I don't take rides from strangers," I tease.

"That's too bad." She pats her bag. "I've got candy," she sing-songs.

"Candy!?" I exclaim. "Let me in! Let's go!"

She laughs and I can't help but join her. It's so effortless having a conversation with her, even if it is about nothing.

"Sorry I'm late," a male voice says from behind me. My smile fades. I turn my head and find a tall, dark-skinned, ad better-looking-than-I'd-like-to-admit guy approaching us.

"It's fine, Gale. You ready?" She unlocks the doors and steps around the vehicle, opening the drivers side door for herself.

"Yeah." Gale opens the passenger side door for himself, and slips inside. He's grilling me hard. Who the fuck is this guy?

"See you later, Peetha." The girl waves as she sits in the car.

I nod my head once and wave at both of them as they climb into the car. I don't really want to smile at this Gale character, but I won't be rude.

I tuck my hands into my pockets and turn away. It's not until I've walked half a block and hear the sound of the car's engine fade that I realize... I still don't know her name.

* * *

Should we continue?

Feel free to reach out to me here or on tumblr (where I've already posted a Mother's Day drabble for this story) and let me know what you think. I'm HazlenutMacchiato.


	3. Complement One Another

**Thank you all for the encouragement. I'm happy to hear you're interested in more of this story. I know the last chapter was a lot of set up and world-building, and introducing you to both NYC and South Indian cultures. Similarly, I had issues getting this chapter ready, in setting up the interpersonal relationship structure. But there's lots of Everlark here too, so I'll hope you enjoy it.**

**Thanks for MockingjayFlyingFree for betaing and Passionately_Curious for prereading and giving me feedback. **

**If you're looking for an amazing canon divergence fic, check out MJFF's The Miner's Wife (which I beta). If you're interested in a little Peeta Pan, check out Passionately_Curious's Second Star to the left (which I preread). And if you're in the mood for a smutty good time with a little girl on girl action, I'm posting I Kissed A Girl soon :) So subscribe! Bookmark! Fav! Follow!**

**And do please enjoy this update of 7 Steps.**

* * *

_**"May this couple be strong and complement one another."**_

"I don't understand what you mean." Finnick yanks another one of my shirts out of my drawer. "How is it not a date?"

"It's just not." I slide out of the black button down I'm wearing. I look down at the brown T-shirt I'm wearing underneath with the words "Free Shrugs" written across it, and wonder why I can't just wear this. "A button down probably sends the wrong message."

"It's a Friday night. Don't you think _that_ sends the wrong message?"

"No." I reach for the slightly blue button down that Finnick's holding out for me anyway... This one has crease lines from being folded and stuffed in my drawer, and I find it more acceptable.

"Well you can't wear just that," Finnick says pointing to my chest. I roll my eyes as I slip my arms into the shirt. It's finally cooling off, and a long sleeved shirt wouldn't be the worst thing to wear tonight, I guess. "So get back to the part about how you're _not_ doing on a date."

"Come on, Nick. It's not rocket science. Delhi and I grew up together. I'm just not interested in her like that."

"Then why go out with her at all? Why not just send the lady my way?"

I lower my voice before answering. "The idea has to be entertained."

"What?"

"Look... Our families are old friends. Delhi's mom is one of my 'aunties' and Amma wants to see if it's a good fit. She'll get bored and move on when she sees she's wasting her time."

"Who? Your mother or Delhi?"

I give him a look. "Amma, of course. Delhi's just going through the motions, too. Marriage isn't exactly _off_ the table until someone says it is."

"So you'll go out with her so that you can nix her in a politically correct manner?"

"Well. I guess." I slip my feet into my sneakers. "You make it sound so harsh."

"Isn't it?" Finnick grabs the black moleskine sketchbook off of my desk.

"No. Like I said, it's the same for her. She didn't invite me to the engagement party any more than I invited her." I see that Finnick is flipping through the pages of my sketchbook and I snatch it away from him. "Don't."

"You draw that girl a lot." I don't answer. I know the book is filled with sketches of the girl with the dark braid. Every time I put pencil to paper, it somehow ends up being a likeliness of her. I stuff the book into my back pocket. "You should just ask her out."

"I don't even know her name."

"Well that's easy to fix. Just go ask her."

If only it were that easy. Something about that girl turns me into a bumbling idiot every time I see her. I grab my keys and wallet off the dresser and make my way towards the door.

"So you're sure it's mutual?"

"What?"

"Things with you and Delhi."

I turn back to face him. "Of course."

We stare at each other, Finnick with a disbelieving look on his face, me with a look of annoyance. Finally, Finnick chuckles. "Okay, Peetha. Have a good time."

xoxoxoxoxox

I step into the restaurant and my eyes float around. The place is small, with metal tables all meant for two. The walls are decorated with various shades of green tiled glass, and the lighting is low. I easily spot Delhi. She's not wearing a punjabi suit, though I half expected her to. Instead, she is wearing a white dress with some kind of floral design on it. She's all dressed up... But then looking down at the blue button down shirt Finnick picked out for me, so am I.

Damn it.

"Hey Delhi," I greet her, leaning down to kiss her on both cheeks. She giggles at the contact, as though the move is more intimate that I intended. As though she didn't request we greet each other this way when she came back from studying in Paris.

"Peetha!"

"You look beautiful." She does. As Finnick points out, Delhi is a looker. Her body is full and hour glass shaped. She's not wearing much make-up - she doesn't need to, her complexion is clear. Her shoulder length curly hair is fanned out around her, covering the shoulder straps of her dress. Her arms are exposed and her skin is smooth like caramel.

"Thanks. You found the place okay?"

"Yeah. It's not far from the dorms."

"You walked?"

I nod my head. "Yeah. This place is vegan, right?"

"Of course. I know you don't eat meat." I smile politely at her. Everything she thinks she knows about me is an assumption of our upbringing. I may not eat meat around my mother, and certainly not in our Hindu household, where we follow a strict vegetarian diet. Amma doesn't prepare any meat - no beef, pork, poultry, or fish of any kind. Also no eggs. And no mushrooms. But I personally have no objections to egg or even fish in my diet. Everyone who knows me knows that.

But Delhi doesn't know me. She knows the eight year old Peetha, with whom she tossed balloons filed with colored water in celebration of Holi.

That was a long time ago. 21-year-old Peetha and Delhi have since drifted apart. We only see each other at family events and wave politely as we pass each other on campus. Until now.

"How'd you get here? Did you walk too?"

She gestures towards her feet. I take note of the strappy heels she's wearing. "I wouldn't make it three blocks in these." I never understood why women wear heels, then run through the streets, pretending the concrete isn't killing them. "My roommate gave me a ride. She works here, so we'll get special treatment."

Roommate? I raise an eyebrow. My eyes scan the room once for the girl with the dark braid, but I don't see her anywhere. Maybe Delhi was referring to a different roommate.

"She's in the back."

"Huh?" I force my gaze back to Delhi, who leans back and huffs out a breath.

"You like her, huh?"

"Who?"

Delhi's eyes drift to the kitchen, which is separated from the dining room by a thick black curtain. As if on cue, the girl emerges. Her hair is pulled back into a braid and she's wearing the same white shirt and black pants I see her wearing sometimes. I recognize it now as her work uniform. She's balancing a tray on her left arm and two plates with her right. She moves swiftly, delicately, as she sets the plates down on a nearby table where a couple is sitting. She's bent over, just far enough for the guy at the table to lean to the side and check out her ass, earning him a slap on the arm from his female companion. I can't help but smirk as the girl stands up straight, ignoring the tension she's "caused."

"She's not Brahmin," Delhi says. When I turn back to face her, her eyes are narrowed and she's studying me. "You know that, right?"

Fucked up as it might sound, yes, I do know that. She's obviously mixed. I could just tell by looking at her. Which means Amma would be able to tell, too.

"I don't care if she's Brahmin." Another assumption on Delhi's part. That I would only be interested in girls of a certain social standing. "But, no, I didn't know," I lie. "I don't know anything about her."

Not even her name.

"But you'd like to?" Delhi's voice cracks just a little bit at the end of her question. She's worried. Why would that matter to her anyway? Maybe things aren't as mutual as I thought.

"Delhi, I didn't ask you here to talk about your roommate."

She smiles widely at me. "That's right. You _did_ ask me out."

I clear my throat. I didn't exactly _ask_ _her_ _out_. At least, I didn't mean to. But I don't correct her. I don't want to come off as rude. "I wanted to talk about Thom's engagement party tomorrow night. It's tomorrow night, after all, and we still haven't confirmed-"

"Oh, it's going to be so much fun! I love Mendhi! I want to get my hands _and_ my feet done this time. You don't mind going early, right? Maybe we can get a ride from-"

"So you _do_ want to go together?" I ask.

She gives me a confused look. "Of course... Don't you?"

"Yeah... I mean yeah! It sounds great. I was just making sure."

"Welcome to Pukk." Shivers run down my spine as I turn my head towards the voice. _Her_ voice. She couldn't possibly know the effect she has on me. I find those silvery gray eyes and smile.

"Hi," I begin. She returns the smile.

"Why does your name tag say 'Darlene?'" Delhi asks.

The girl with the braid taps her name tag with her fingers. "I stopped using my real name here after last month's incident."

"Oh. Right."

"What happened last month?" I ask.

"Some guy stalked her," Delhi explains.

"He wasn't a stalker. He was just _enthusiastic_."

"Then why don't you use your real name anymore?" I point to her name tag.

"I just don't need that much enthusiasm in my life." The girl folds her arms over her chest. "You know what you want yet?"

"Shouldn't you ask a little nicer?" Delhi teases. "You've been warned about that attitude."

"And _you've_ been warned about flushing your hair down the toilet instead of throwing it in the garbage."

Delhi's eyes widen and dart back and forth between me and the girl in embarrassment and I stifle a laugh. "Okay, okay! I'll have the red curry duck. Peetha?"

I lock eyes with 'Darlene.' "_You_ choose for me."

She smiles again and opens her mouth to respond. But it's Delhi's voice I hear next.

"Uh, okay. He'll have the Pad Thai with the... duck."

I shrug my shoulders and the girl smiles, trying to hide her laughter. "I'll be back with your food."

"The duck is really good. I love that all the meat is fake," Delhi says.

I nod my head. "Yeah. That's cool."

Delhi bites her bottom lip as she looks at me. "So... We might be having a Diwali party. I don't know how often you're home these days-"

"Nearly every weekend," I say sounding less enthused than she probably hoped.

"So... do you want to come?"

I nod my head. "Send me the info." Diwali isn't until late fall so I've got some time on it. "And thanks for the invite."

"Of course. You know we like to party."

I do know that. Amma and all her friends will take any excuse to get dressed up, wear their good jewelry, and dance. It's amazing to me just how much she loves to dance. Even Rydvic and Saloni seem happy when there's a dance floor.

Delhi raises her glass, breaking me from my thoughts. "To new beginnings."

I raise my glass and offer a toast of my own. "To good friends." Our glasses clink together.

Sharing a conversation with Delhi is easy. She tells me about Thom. How he's marrying some 18 year old he met when he tutored her for her SATs. They're not arranged, per se, but their marriage did require his parents' approval, something apparently his fiancée only barely got since she's not Brahmin. Delhi directs the conversation to our roommates. She speaks mostly about a girl named Madge, the one she shares a bedroom with. She's careful not to say too much about 'Darlene," but she does ask me how Finnick is... And what his deal is.

"He just likes to flirt," I tell her. "Ignore him if it bothers you and he'll stop. He's not a jerk."

Delhi sighs. "If only _all_ guys would take a hint that easily."

I give her a confused look, but I don't get to ask her for clarification. Our food arrives, set wordlessly onto the table by the girl with the dark braid. I thank her and study my food, which makes my mouth water. I've never had real duck before, so I have nothing to compare it to. But it smells and tastes good, and it's spicy. So spicy in fact that I find myself out of water three times. Each time, I wave my hand calling for the attention of 'Darlene.'

"This is your third refill," she says as she pours the water into my glass. "Can't handle spices?"

"I can," I assure her. "But I wonder if they made it extra spicy to cover up the fact that this doesn't taste like duck." She chuckles quietly and her eyes find mine. "This isn't what duck tastes like, is it?"

"Ah- no. It's good though, if you try not to think of duck, if you know what I mean."

"Thanks," Delhi says, shooting her a look. The girl turns away without another word. She doesn't check on us again.

Delhi and I spend another half an hour together. I ask about her semester abroad and can't help but smile as she regales me with stories of nightclubs in Paris. When I ask for the check, the busboy brings it. We haven't been charged for drinks or dinner, the perk of knowing someone who works here.

"I had a good time," I tell Delhi as I hold the restaurant door open for her. It's the truth. I did enjoy her company. Doesn't mean I want to marry her though.

"Thank you. Me too."

"I'd walk you home, but I don't think you'll make it in those shoes."

"No." She smiles as she shakes her head. "Are you going back to the dorms?"

"Not right away. I could use the fresh air." Well, as fresh as air can get here, anyway.

"Could you help me get a cab, then?"

"Of course."

It's nearly midnight and cabs are plentiful on 1st Avenue. It takes me under two minutes to hail one for her. I politely open the door and hold her hand as she steps inside. It's the gentlemanly thing to do.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow at 2?"

"Yeah. Definitely," I say. Have a good night."

I shut the door and don't watch the cab leave. I begin my walk home, through the narrow streets off the East Village. The area is a mix of cultures and professions. I spot men in business suits walking up the stairs of the old brownstone buildings... And half a block later, I spot a skateboarder who's literally taking a piss on the cars he passes as he glides through the street. I reach for my phone, thankfully finding no new messages, and I'm patting my pockets when I suddenly feel the loss. I search but I come up empty. My sketchbook is missing. I must've left it in the restaurant. I turn around and make my way back to Pukk.

When I step back inside of the restaurant, the lighting is different. Harsher. They're closed now, and the girl with the dark braid has just started to clear our table. She sees me and her eyes light up. I can't help but smile back at her.

"You forget something?" she asks.

"Oh. Yeah, uh, my sketchbook."

"You brought your sketchbook on a date?"

"It wasn't a date."

She shrugs her shoulders and leans over, retrieving the book from the floor and handing it to me. I'm thankful it was closed and she couldn't see the dozen or so sketches of her inside.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." I turn away. "Have a good night, Peetha." There it is again. My name on her lips. I stop in my tracks and turn back around to face her.

"That... that's not fair."

"What?"

"You know my name, but you still didn't tell me yours."

"You don't know my name?" she asks. I shake my head slowly. "Then how do you refer to me when you talk about me?"

I raise my eyebrows. "What makes you so sure I talk about you?"

She leans forward, a smile playing on her lips. "Don't you?"

"Uh, well, I-"

Her laugher stops me from making an even bigger ass of myself. The sound also relaxes me and I find myself exhaling loudly. "That's what I thought. So, fess up. What's my nickname? Or rather which body part is it based on?"

I stare into her eyes and I'm lost in a sea of grey. "Your hair."

She narrows her eyes at me. "My hair?" I nod my head. "Not my eyes? Not my ass?"

I laugh, and the sound echoes through the small now empty restaurant. "Aren't we confident?"

"Well, yeah. But I'm also _observant_." She raises her eyebrows challenging me. I know she's caught me staring at her ass on our "walks" home.

"I like long hair, okay? And your's smells good. So you're the girl with the dark braid." I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know, it seemed appropriate."

"What if I'm not wearing a braid?"

"I haven't seen you without-" my words die on my tongue as I watch her unbraid her hair... slowly. She uses both hands to finger comb through her long wavy locks. My mouth falls open. "Damn," I whisper.

"Well. How about now?"

"Now I suppose I'll have to find something else to call you."

She leans forward, pressing her palms onto the table between us. "How about Katniss?"

"Katniss?" The word rolls effortlessly off of my tongue. "Like the flower?"

Her eyes widen. "What do you know about Katniss flowers?"

"I've seen them, growing in the ponds near my family's house." I make circles with my flat hand, gesturing the pond I'm speaking about. "In India."

"Interesting. Well, my grandmother picked my name. She says she named me and my sister after her favorite flowers that she used to see growing wild when she was a little girl."

"Where did she grow up?"

"Pondicherry."

My mouth falls open. "So you _are_ Indian?"

She eyes me suspiciously. "Have a bet going or something?"

I shake my head. "No. I just wasn't sure."

"They say it takes one to know one," she teases. I offer her a smirk and she nods her head once. "My grandmother is Indian. _I'm_ just your average New Yorker." She sighs heavily and claims the seat across from me, that Delhi sat in not too long ago. She brings her right ankle to rest on her left knee and begins to massage it with both hands. "An overworked New Yorker."

She looks exhausted.

"You get off soon?" She raises an eyebrow at me. "I mean, off of work."

"Just gotta clean up your mess," she teases.

"It's late. I'll walk you home," I volunteer.

"That's okay."

"I insist. And not in that overly enthusiastic stalker way."

She laughs. I made her laugh. I smile proudly. "Well, I'm not going straight home. But you can walk me home in a few hours if you like?" I give her a confused look. "My friend's throwing a party in Alphabet City."

"Oh."

She covers her hand with her mouth. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to. I mean, if Delhi would have a problem with that, then-"

"Delhi?"

"Well, yeah. Aren't you...?" She brings her index fingers together and points towards me. I don't speak much ASL. Just what I learned from Lavinia, the hearing impaired librarian assistant who works in Bobst... that I fucked last year. I know the sign for "fucking."

"No!" I clear my throat and lower my voice. "I mean, no. Delhi and I grew up together, that's all."

"Oh. So this wasn't a date?"

"Not exactly." She huffs out a breath and stares at me. "What?"

"Delhi thinks this was a date."

"Well, it wasn't. I mean, if it were a date, wouldn't she still be here?" Her smile spreads slowly across her face. "What?"

"Now who's confident?"

"Huh?"

"You want me to just assume that any girl who goes out with you will want to spend the entire evening with you?"

"That's not what I meant."

"But it's what you said."

"It wasn't a date," I repeat.

She purses her lips as she studies me. I find myself actually holding my breath, waiting for her next word. "Oh-Kay," she says slowly. I sigh and visibly deflate, leaning back against my chair. "So... You want to come to the party?"

Kantiss brushes the hair out of her face with her wrist. When her eyes find mine, I realize I've been staring.

"Oh, um... Sure."

Xxxxxxx

Katniss presses the round, black, doorbell several times. It's annoyingly loud, but I try to tune it out as I take in my surroundings. I'm in a hallway in an apartment building over on Avenue A, three stories up. The floor is lined with small broken tiles, and it smells like piss in here. But none of that matters, because Katniss is unbuttoning her white button down shirt. She's wearing a brown tank top underneath, a few shades darker than her skin. Her hair drapes over her shoulder in waves as she shrugs the shirt off.

I've spent the past 45 minutes trying not to look at her too much, and failing miserably. I helped her finish clearing the dishes and close out the restaurant. Then we walked here, with her leading the way a step ahead of me. So far I've learned that her parents still live in Long Island with her little sister, that her favorite color is green, like the forest, and that she's studying environmental science. I'm a reluctant scientist myself, and I appreciate that she doesn't laugh when I tell her I spend my free time sketching, though I leave out what I've been sketching lately. It's the longest conversation we've shared, and I'm sorry that it's about to end. But, she did invite me to a party.

"You sure your boyfriend won't mind you bringing me?"

Apparently this party is being thrown by the guy I saw her with the other day.

"I told you," she sighs. "He's not my boyfriend. We're friends, that's all. And it's a party!"

The door opens, and I force my gaze away from her.

"Catnip!"

The dark skinned man wraps his arms around Katniss's waist and lifts her up. I avert my eyes and wait for their embrace to end. It lasts longer than it should. Katniss is short of breath and smiling when he finally puts her down.

"Damn it, Gale," she complains. Though she's not really complaining.

"So glad you came!" His eyes cut over to me. "Who's the suit?"

I look down at myself. I'm still wearing the same button down shirt. I guess it's too formal for the occasion. "You remember Gale. Gale, this is Peetha." Damn, I love how she says my name. "And some of us had commitments before coming to your party." Katniss's eyes drift over to me. "You _do_ look a little stiff." Her hand reaches up and unbuttons my top button. I allow it. Katniss is on her tiptoes as she peers underneath my shirt. "That T-shirt doesn't have pit stains, does it?"

"No!"

"Good, because it's brown. Take this off," she tugs at my collar. "And we'll match."

Gale exhales, quite loudly. "Oh." I reach my hand out towards him. "Nice to see you again," I offer.

He leaves me hanging about three seconds longer than would be polite before slapping his palm once against mine. "Yeah, man. Any friend of Catnip's." He forces a smile but it doesn't reach his eyes. He knows what I already know. That we're competition. "Come on. You're just in time to play Battleshots."

"Great!" Katniss says, stepping into the apartment.

"And we're playing in teams. So what's up, Catnip? You want to roll with me?"

"Ugh, no fucking way. You're terrible at Battleshots!"

"What's Battleshots?" I ask.

Katniss looks at me, her mouth open. "You've never played?" I shake my head. "Don't worry. You'll pick it up fast."

But I do worry. Because if Battleshots is anything like beer pong, I won't pick it up fast. I won't pick it up at all. The last time I got so drunk that I had to throw up was junior year of high school during a game of beer pong.

The apartment is filled with people, at varying states of inebriation. The furniture in the living room has all been pushed against the wall. In the center of the room are three folding card tables, each with a large cardboard box outfitted as an oversized cardboard box. Judging by the laughter coming from the room, it seems kind of fun.

"Where do we start?" I ask.

"You start by taking that suit off," Gale shouts across the room. He earns a chuckle of laughter and I try to be a good sport about being ragged on.

"Give it to me." Katniss motions for me to hand her the shirt. I take it off and she stuffs it into her purse, taking note of my T-shirt. I shrug my shoulder and give her a pleading look, earning another laugh. I just love making her laugh.

"We got next!" Katniss yells. Her eyes drift over to mine. "Right?"

"Definitely."

"Okay," Katniss begins. She hooks her hand into my elbow and leads me through the crowded kitchen. She nods her head, greeting her friends and swipes up two open bottles of beer from a bucket filled with ice with her free hand. She turns back to me and yells over the crowd.

"You can handle shots, right?"

I frown and nod my head. "Yeah!"

"Good." She hands me a beer and I follow her into the living room. We claim the empty side of one of the tables.

The giant cardboard playing area has a grid drawn in it. The ships are in a plastic bin and are made out of cardboard with little depressions, holding areas for the shot glasses. Katniss grabs a few and takes another swig of her beer before speaking.

"Okay, first we have to decide where to put the ships."

"So, it's just like battleship?"

"Exactly. You put the shot glasses here, and then you play the game normally. If one of our ships gets hit, we have to drink." She looks up at me and smiles.

"Got it."

We simply arrange all of the ships around the outside perimeter of the board.

"What's your poison?" Gale asks.

Looking over the partition between the two sides of the board I can see Gale holding up two bottles of liquor. I reach for the rum since vodka tastes like shit. I begin to pour the liquid into the plastic shot glasses on the board.

"Make sure he fills them up, Catnip."

I set the bottle down with a thud and lock eyes with Gale. "You ready?" I ask. He nods. "A-3."

He rolls his eyes and reaches for the shit glass. Next to me Katniss shouts her approval.

Gale tosses the empty shot glass over his shoulder. "B-6?"

"Miss!"

Our strategy works, because we're soon nearing the end of the game, and we've still got two ships left.

"A-4?" Katniss slurs. She's on her second beer, and she downed three shots.

I make a loud splashing sound and Katniss laughs as she points at Gale. Gale mutters "fuck" and reaches for another shot.

"I believe that was his destroyer," Katniss says, wiping imaginary tears away.

"C-8?" Gale says.

"Miss!" I declare. "Again!"

I drape an arm over Katniss's shoulder. It I weren't two beers and four shots in, I might be surprised by the fact that her arms wrap around my waist. And I might also care about the death glare Gale is sending my way. But I'm too drunk, she feels too good, and we're too close to winning.

I do my best to focus on Gale, but he's blurry and there are two of him. "A...5!"

Gale takes his time reaching for the shot, but when he finally brings it to his lips, I hear the loud eruption of laughter and shouts echo through the room.

"Nice job!" Katniss slurs. "We make a... Good team."

"Uh-huh!" I agree with a nod.

Katniss pulls me away from the board and I follow her, barely resisting the urge to grab her ass, to one of the couches against the wall. We flop down there and she rests her head against my shoulder. The room is still loud, but has quieted down enough for us to have a conversation.

"I cannot believe I got this wasted." She brings her hands to cover her eyes. "I have to go out to fucking Queens tomorrow."

"Yeah. Me too. Wait, why are you going to Queens?"

"My sister's engagement party."

"Oh. I'm going to an engagement party too."

"Yeah, no shit. It's the same party."

"It is?"

"Mmhmm."

"Your sister's marrying Thom?"

"Yep. She's getting married at the ripe old age of 18. The ink on her high school diploma just dried."

I chuckle at that. "Maybe it'll be good for her."

"Maybe."

"My brother says he wishes he got married earlier."

"Yeah, but that's cus you're ABCDs."

"What? I'm not an ABCD!"

Her hands drop away from her face and she gives me a look. "You are such an ABCD. You and Delhi are both American Born Confused Desis."

"I'm not confused."

"Yes you are. You didn't even know you were on a date tonight."

"I wasn't on a date!"

"Well, Delhi was." She sighs heavily. "You said you have a brother, right?" I nod my head. "And your brother was arranged, right?" I don't answer. "And you'll be arranged, too."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will. You're already arranged, and you don't even know it." Again, I don't answer. "Oh man, Delhi just can't wait to marry you!"

I take my arm from around her shoulder and lean forward. "Fuck."

"Awww! Wait, I'm sorry. I'm drunk and talking too much... It's just... I mean, you _are_ taking her to my sister's wedding, right?"

"I told you. It's not like that. Did you grow up with aunties?"

She nods her head. "Dozens."

"Then you get it. Besides, what am I doing here with you if I'm supposed to be with her?"

"_That_ is a very good question."

"Catnip?" We break eye contact and find Gale standing in front of us, holding two bottles of beer. "You wanna dance?"

Katniss smiles as she reaches for one of the bottles. "Sure. But first I gotta go to the bathroom."

"Take your time." Gale offers her his hand and helps her stand. She glances between us for a moment before disappearing into the crowd.

"Here man," Gale offers me the second bottle of beer.

"Uh. Thanks."

"Yeah. Good game."

"You too."

"The odds were certainly in your favor."

I nod my head. "They were."

"But that was a game. And it's over."

"What?"

"Katniss is pretty drunk. I should probably put her to bed soon." I push myself up to stand and stare into his eyes. "_My_ bed," he finishes.

"That's up to the lady," I inform him.

He looks past me, to where Katniss is emerging from the bathroom. "True. I'll go ask her where she wants to sleep tonight."

I roll my eyes as he steps away from me.

I reclaim my seat, drinking my water slowly as Katniss and Gale dance to "Tipsy." I watch his hand slide down her body, gripping her hips and pulling her closer. She turns around and presses her ass against his crotch and though she's laughing while she does so, she misses the way his face twists in pleasure when she does that. I let them finish the song before I can't take it anymore. I stand and make my way towards the door.

"Hey! Peetha!"

I turn around to find Katniss - and Gale - standing right behind me. Katniss is covered in a sheen of sweat and she still smells like vanilla. She pushes her hair, wet with sweat from dancing, out of her face. "Where are you going?"

"Gotta get home. Long day tomorrow."

"Oh, right."

"See you, dude," Gale says. He smirks in triumph and extends a hand out to me. He's certain he's won.

"I'll see you at the party tomorrow?" I ask Katniss.

"Yeah. No, wait. I'll go with you."

"What?" Gale objects. "Katniss, you should stay here, with me."

"Gale come on, look around. This party isn't ending any time soon. I gotta get some rest."

I shoot that same smug smirk right back at Gale as I offer Katniss my elbow. She leans in and kisses his cheek once before she accepts me. "See you Sunday."

I lead Katniss away from Gale without another word, and away from the party. She leans on me as we walk down the stairs, and even though I know it's wrong, I take the opportunity to nuzzle my face against the top of her head. Fuck, she smells so good.

We step out into the street and the cool night air forces her to hold me closer. I reach my hand out hailing a cab, and sigh in relief as we both slide inside.

"11th Street and 3rd Avenue."

The cabbie nods and I lean back. I ignore the commercials that play on the television screen that's way brighter than it needs to be.

"You dropped this again," Katniss says. She's holding my moleskine sketchbook out towards me.

I hesitate for a moment before taking it from her. "Thanks."

"You carry that around with you all the time?"

"Not really. I was just trying to keep it away from my roommate tonight. He's always in my stuff."

"Oh... Can I see?"

"Huh?"

"What you draw. Can I see?"

I shake my head. "No," I answer more harshly than I intended.

"Why not?"

"Because I can never do you justice." Shit. The words slipped right out of my mouth.

"Do... _me_ justice?" I look away and can practically hear the gears turnings in her head. "You draw _me_?"

"Uh. A little"

"Let me see!" She reaches for the sketchbook and I hold it away from her.

"No!"

She gives up, resting her head in my lap. "Please, Peetha," she sing songs.

I roll my eyes as she sits up. I open the book and find the first drawing I made of her. I stare at the page, which is illuminated by street lights and the television screen. Before lose my nerve, I hand the book to her. "Fine. Here."

Her finger traces over the paper and her mouth falls open. "Is this the day your bag broke?"

I clear my throat. "Yeah. The first day you spoke to me."

In the drawing, she's kneeling down, gathering up my papers.

"Where are _you_?"

"I don't draw myself."

"Why not?"

"No one wants to see that."

Her eyes drift away from the book. "I do."

"You do?"

She nods. "I like looking at you."

"Really?"

She nods again. "Your drawing is beautiful."

"Not bad for an ABCD, huh?"

Katniss shuts the book, dropping it into my lap. She brings her hand up to my jaw and turns me to face her.

"I'm sorry."

I furrow my brow. "For what?"

"For calling you that. I don't know you well enough to know if you are. Not that there's anything wrong with it, anyway."

I shrug a shoulder. "S'okay." I bring my hand to cover hers, still cupping my jaw.

"It's just... I'm trying to figure you out," she breathes. She's close, so close. I can feel her breath on my skin.

"I'm trying to figure you out, too."

Her eyes grow dark and her gaze drops to my lips. "What do you want to know?"

"The truth?" She nods and I lean in closer. "I want to know what you taste like."

Our lips touch, just barely at first. But then it's only an instant before our mouths have crashed together. I move with her at first, enjoying the feel of her small, wet mouth and the jolts of pleasure she sends through my entire body. I can't help wondering what the rest of her feels like. But right now, I want to know how she tastes. I bring my hands up, threading my fingers through her hair and holding her in place as my tongue slips between her lips. She's sweet and bitter from the beer she's been drinking, but I've never had anything better. She responds to my touch, moaning and parting her lips for me. She lets me set the pace and depth of the kiss, and I greedily explore her with my tongue. Her hands wrap around me, and she pulls me closer.

"Ahem." The sound of the cabbie's voice forces us to break away. My hands are still on her, over her clothes, but I turn my head toward him, and apparently let out an exasperated groan. Katniss laughs, the vibrations of her body tempting me to pull her closer again. "That'll be $9.50. And $20 if you made a mess back there."

I roll my eyes as I retrieve a ten dollar bill from my pocket and toss it up front.

I tuck my sketchbook back into my pocket as Katniss opens the cab door and we spill out onto the sidewalk. I hold onto her hand as we approach the entrance of our brick building. I don't meet her eyes. The elevator seems to take forever. But once safely inside, I pull her close, pressing her body against mine. I look down into her eyes, so clouded with desire I can barely see the grey. I lean down and kiss her lips. "I wanted to do that since I first saw you."

She bites her bottom lip. "Kiss me again."

I give her what she asks for.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. We move together down the hallway, a drunken mess of groping hands and open mouths. Katniss's arms are wrapped around my neck and she's trailing kisses along my jaw. Soon, I've got her back pressed against the door as I search desperately for the key. How many fucking pockets do these jeans have, anyway? She doesn't release me, so I search blindly for the lock, pausing a few times as her lips graze over mine.

Finally inside, my entire suite is dark. My head is swimming as I lead her backwards to the door of my bedroom, unbuttoning my jeans and tugging the zipper down. She's doing the same, struggling with her own zipper, and I slide my hands under her shirt and drag my fingertips across her lower back. Damn, she feels so good.

Flinging the bedroom door open, I'm surprised to find the room empty. Good. I don't have to kick Finnick out of here.

"Which bed is yours?" she asks.

"Here," I murmur and she spins around. She pushes her jeans over her hips and they land in a pile at the foot of the bed. She lays flat on her back as the world around me gets foggy. I follow the sound of her voice, begging me to take her. I settle between her legs, feeling right at home as I lean down and kiss her again. I roll my hips against hers, letting her feel my growing hardness. Only our underwear separates us, and I can feel her heat. I groan in pleasure and she tears her lips away from mine, gasping and looking down between our bodies. My arms shake with the effort of holding myself over her, but I ignore the sensation.

"You like that?" I ask.

"Yes," she sighs.

"You want more?"

"Oh, God, yes!"

I'll give her more. I reach across her body, digging through the drawer beside the bed. I find a small plastic wrapper. I shut my eyes as the world grows blurry. I roll away from her, fumbling with the wrapper with my eyes still shut... and I drift away.

The light of day isn't what wakes me. It's the stinging sensation of being slapped in the face. "What the FUCK!" I groan. I open my eyes and find Finnick smirking at me. "What the hell do you want?"

"I want _you_ to get the hell off my bed."

"What?"

I lift my head and look around. I'm on my stomach, wearing only my boxers, sprawled on Finnick's bed, over the covers. Next to me, on her back, Katniss is snoring lightly. She's beautiful... And she's only wearing a brown tank top and underwear. The memories of last night all seem to come back at once. Katniss, beneath me, begging me to take her. But blurry. So blurry. Like a far away dream.

"Shit. Uh... I'll wash the comforter." I try to cover her up.

Finnick laughs. "Dude, I've already seen. She's hot."

"Shut up." I scrub my hands with my face.

"Too bad you didn't fuck her."

"I said shut up."

Finnick retrieves the unopened condom from the bed. "Looks like you got pretty close, though."

"Does your brain not work?"

"Just sayin'." He lies down on his back on my bed.

"Whatever. Ugh, I should wake her up. What time is it?"

"2 o' clock."

"Shit!"

I reach for my phone, still tucked into my jean pocket on the bed. I find a missed call and voicemail from Amma, and a text from Ry that simply reminds me that he and his wife will be in attendance today.

Great.

"Oh! And you have a visitor."

"What visitor?"

"The hot Indian chick from upstairs. You know, the other one."

"Delhi?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Delhi's here?"

"Yeah."

"Damn it." I get off the bed slowly, careful not to disturb Katniss. She's sleeping pretty hard, so it doesn't take much effort. I grab a pair of sweatpants that's on the floor. I'm not sure whose they are, but it doesn't matter. My hand is on the doorknob before I realize I'm about to leave a half naked beautiful girl passed out on Finnick's bed. "If you touch her, I'll break your fingers."

"You don't trust me?"

"One by one," I promise him.

I open the door and immediately my eyes fall on Delhi. She's already dressed up, wearing a black punjabi suit with gold embroidery. She smiles when she sees me, but it fades just as fast when she sees that I'm not dressed. And that I've obviously just woken up. I wonder if she can see Katniss on me, too.

"You're not ready?" She stands and checks her phone. She looks stressed. "It's okay. That's why we planned to leave early. I mean. My roommates and I were all supposed to have breakfast but I can't find any of them and no will answer their phones and _why aren't you ready_?"

"Uh.."

"You should be ready by now."

"Delhi..."

"It's okay." She lowers her voice, obviously trying to calm herself down. "Just... Go get ready. Okay? I can wait."

"Why don't we meet downstairs? Give me, uh, half an hour?"

"Half an hour?" I nod. "Okay. I can do that." Delhi shifts uneasily on her feet. "I'll just go back up to my room."

I hold the door open for her and smile at her as she steps outside. I sigh as she disappears from view.

I step back into my bedroom, just in time. Katniss is stirring. I turn to Finnick. "Nick, could you give us a few minutes?"

He smiles at me. "Okay... but remember this next time I fuck someone on _your_ bed."

"Shhh!" I push against his shoulder, encouraging him up and out of the room. I shut the door behind him and sit down on his bed, next to Katniss.

"Good afternoon."

"Hi." She smiles sleepily at me, but confusion soon replaces the peaceful look on her face. "Oh my God," she says as he covers her eyes. "Did we...?"

"Uh. No, we didn't. We almost did." She sighs heavily... in relief. "Would it have been so bad if we did?"

"No. I mean yeah. Because you're with-"

"Do _not_ say Delhi." I roll my eyes. "I'm not with anyone." I take her hand in mine. "Not yet, anyway."

She looks away, but she doesn't pull her hand back. "What time is it?"

"2. We should probably get ready to go soon. The subway takes a while."

"It's fine. I can give us a ride."

"Um... Well. I...um..."

Now she pulls away. She sits up, covering herself with the sheet. "You're going with Delhi."

"Yeah. But maybe we can all ride together?" She gives me a look that lets me know how terrible an idea that is. "I don't know what you're thinking. But, I had a great time with you last night."

"Yeah, me too." She pushes her hair out of her face and turns towards the sunlight.

"Katniss... If last night is any indication of what things could be like between us, then that's definitely something I'm interested in."

Her eyes flit nervously around the room. "I should get going."

"Why?"

"Because this is all a mistake."

"No it isn't!" I sigh heavily.

"Peetha, you can't date another girl on Friday and Saturday nights and fuck me in between."

"We didn't fuck. And I'm not dating anyone else."

"I may not be Brahmin, but I deserve better than that!"

"What?! You think I care that you're not Brahmin?"

My sudden change in tone startles her. She finally catches my eye and holds my gaze as she speaks. "Don't you?"

I shake my head in response. "No." She purses her lips, but doesn't say anything more. "Obviously my friendship with Delhi bothers you."

"A _friendship_ wouldn't bother me. I'm not that type of girl."

"Why do you keep insisting that I'm dating her?"

"Because you are!"

"My mother set this up, okay?" She chuckles bitterly. "I already agreed to take her to the engagement party. So I will." She rolls her eyes and I bring my hands up to cup her jaw. "If you tell me that there is a chance that I can see you again, then I won't do anything to mess that up."

The scowl that's taken over her face softens. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I'd like that."

"Good. Me too."

I lean in, lightly pressing our lips together. I don't push for more. I only mean to comfort her.

She sighs as we break away. "I guess I should get upstairs and get ready."

"Uh. Maybe wait a few?" She gives me a confused look. "Delhi's upstairs right now." Katniss rolls her eyes. "I'm meeting her downstairs in a little while." Katniss huffs out a breath and I really should shut the fuck up. Thankfully Katniss brings her hand up to cover my mouth. Her grey eyes bore into mine and I try to relax.

"It's okay. I get that you had a prior commitment and that you and I only really have last night." She leans in and kisses the back of her hand over my mouth once. "If you still feel the same way tomorrow, just let me know."

I pull her hand away and interlace our fingers. "You're okay with that?"

"No, Peetha. I'm a girl. I'm not okay with it at all." I chuckle quietly and she shakes her head at me. "But I'm trying to be an adult here."

I smile at her. "Thank you."

* * *

**Coming up next? Prim's Engagement party!**

**Reviews are love :)**


	4. Riches on All Levels

_Hello, my lovely readers. Did you see that I had to remove Blend's story content from this site? Bummer, right? If you're looking for it, its still available to read on Archive of Our Own and links can be found on my profile page._

_Are any of you interested in drabbles from this universe? I've posted one on my tumblr, new url BitchesLoveSprinkles, and have two more written and ready, if you want them. They're both flashbacks, to give a little dimension to Peetha's upbringing. Just let me know._

_As for this chapter, neither my beta mockingjayflyingfree or my prereader mitchesbecray tore the document to pieces this time. So...I'm nervous about posting this. Can it be I've actually explained things sufficiently? Has the story hit a stride? You'll let me know that as well._

_Enjoy_

* * *

_"May this couple be blessed with prosperity and riches on all levels."_

I wish I were in a better mood. My mind is too busy, caught somewhere between excitement over the evening I had last night and the new relationship I could pursue with Katniss... And resentment that tonight's commitment might ruin it.

I'm dressed traditionally, in one of my most comfortable and worn lungis. Delhi didn't complain that I'm wearing beige, which I appreciate. It allows her bright pink sari to stand out that much more. But she's just as quiet as I am. We barely said two words to each other on the train ride here. She hasn't tried to hook her arm in mine or asked me to hold her purse, either. Glancing over at her, as she struggles with another pair of strappy shoes on the concrete sidewalk as we approach the banquet hall, her jaw set and her muscles tense, I realize I'm not the only one in a bad mood.

"Hey, listen." I stop on the sidewalk and face her. She doesn't meet my eyes. "Before we go in there, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I was running late today."

Her eyes find mine and she softens. "Thanks, Peetha. It's not just you, though. I told you, my roommates kind of disappeared on me today."

Oh. That was kind of my fault too, I guess. Katniss and I passed out half naked on Finnick's bed. I'm still not sure if our passing out was a blessing or a curse.

Delhi looks at her phone again. "Why the hell isn't she answering my texts?"

Uh-oh. "Who?"

Delhi sighs as she tucks her phone away. "No one." She smiles softly. "Let's just try to have a good time tonight, okay?"

"I'd like that." I offer her my arm and smile as she accepts.

But I regret the decision instantly, because the first thing I see as we step into the foyer, is a set of gray eyes, locked on to mine, with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat.

Katniss.

I open my mouth to mumble an explanation of some kind. But for what? I'm not doing anything wrong, and besides, she's across the room and I'd have to yell for her to hear me.

"Peetha?" Delhi asks, tugging on my arm.

"Huh?"

"Why have we stopped?"

Her question jolts me back into movement and I drop Katniss's gaze. "Sorry. I was just... looking around."

It's not a total lie. I _was_ looking around. Indian banquet halls go out of their way to be ornate. They're always named after a palace, or a god. Always dripping in gold. Always over the top. Haveli, named for a place where high priests and the affluent would entertain their guests, is no different. The light orange walls are decorated with giant elephants that are bathed in jewels, and drowning in sparkly gold paint.

It's fitting for a Brahmin celebration.

But who am I kidding? I wasn't admiring the decor.

"I was just looking over at Katniss. She-"

"Katniss?" Delhi asks. Her voice is even, but something about her tone makes me turn to face her with my brow furrowed. "So you know her name? I thought you didn't know anything about her."

I know her name. I know she can handle four shots of rum, but hiccups on the fifth. I know her feet are arched beautifully. I know she smells like vanilla. Tastes like sugar. Feels like heaven... But I still don't know nearly enough.

"Didn't you say you wanted mehndi?" I point over to Katniss, who is resting on the white couches. She currently has her hand outstretched palm down as an older woman pipes out the clay concoction to her skin. A white coach seems a terrible place for that activity. I've always appreciated the art, though. In a lot of ways, it's like decorating a cake, which also interests me. Not that I get to do much cake decorating in a chemistry lab.

"Yes, I do," Delhi confirms. "Oh, but look at that line." It's not a line in the truest sense of the word, but clearly all of the women over there are waiting their turn, and I'll bet there's no question about just who is next.

Most women love mehndi. After all, they only get it done at big events like this. It's traditionally made from henna leaves all ground up into a thick paste that stains the skin. Each design is intricate, elaborate, and the symbols drawn whether it's flowers, vines, or animals, each carry meaning. Even the placement on the body carries meaning. I'm hardly an expert, but I know the mehndi on the feet is a bigger deal - something to do with the feet being where a person connects to the earth. I don't know. Amma tried to explain it to me once. I search the room for Amma, but I only find Saloni, who offers me a nod in greeting.

"Oooh, Katniss is getting both of her hands done." That's because she the Bride's sister. Delhi waves to Katniss, and Katniss rocks her head from side to side in acknowledgment... a gesture that I'm surprised to see her make. Delhi lowers her voice. "That must be her sister, Primrose."

Next to Katniss, there is a young girl with both hands and feet outstretched palm up as two women work on her. Her skin is fair, like mine, but her features are similar to Katniss's. Except her eyes. Even from all the way back here, I can see they're a lighter color than Katniss's.

"She looks so young," I comment.

"She just turned eighteen. And she's not even Brahmin. It's all a big scandal that they're trying to keep hush-hush, as if we all don't already know." Delhi looks around. "We really shouldn't be talking about it here."

"No, we shouldn't," I agree. "Why don't you head over there?" I suggest as I detach Delhi from my arm. "I'll see about finding our seats."

"You are so sweet," Delhi says.

I'll admit, I feel a twinge of nervousness as Delhi quickly makes her way across the room. I don't need her planting any more ideas in Katniss's head about us dating. It's not easy, but I play it cool. I don't watch her go over there. Instead I push my way through the heavy doors into the banquet hall, where most of the men have gathered. My father stands close to his friends, including Uncle Hay, showing them more physical affection that I've ever seen him show Amma. He tells what I'm sure is his first of many dirty jokes of the evening, and they all clap him on the back in appreciation. Even Ry is laughing. But when he sees me, he steps away from the group.

"Hey thammadu."

"Anna." He pulls me in for a tight hug and I smile. This is the most relaxed I've see him in weeks. "Is Daddy telling the one about the golf course and the Japanese girl?" I ask.

"Oh, _wrong_ _hole_?" Rye mimics daddy's awful Indian-doing-a-Japanese-girl accent. I can't help but chuckle. "No, he's got a new one about a donkey."

I roll my eyes. "Where does he get those?"

"Apparently he got a book of them recently. Amma's not amused, though." Ry puts a hand on my shoulder. "Oh, and he's got another one about taking a Kshatriya girl to the slag heap."

"What's a slag heap?"

"Aww, Peetha, you're so pure." I roll my eyes and Ry chuckles at me. "I'd better not repeat that one, though. Saloni might hear me."

"Saloni's Brahmin."

"Yeah, but she can hear like a bat. Plus she doesn't know the girls I was with before her weren't." He winks at me.

"She knows there were girls before her?"

"I think so." Ry scratches his head. "What are you drinking?"

"Oh, um." Looking around, now I see why everyone's so relaxed. There's an open bar here, and none of the women are around. "Just a beer for me. I had kind of a late night." Shit. Didn't mean to let that slip. I clamp my mouth shut, but it's too late.

Ry's eyes widen with intrigue. "With the Cartwight girl?"

"Oh, um. No."

"Man, that would be a good - wait. Did you say no?" I raise my eyebrows at him. His expression changes, and he sighs. Another lecture's coming. "Peetha-"

"I'm gonna go grab that beer," I say, stepping away. I don't owe him any explanations, and I don't need him knowing any more details.

I cross the wooden dance floor and approach the bar, at the back of the banquet hall. The bar is wide, but there are no stools. I don't suppose we're meant to stand here long. "What beers do you have?" I ask the bartender.

"We have Taj Mahal, Amstel, Amstel light, Corona-"

"Amstel's great."

I watch as he retrieves a bottle from a larger cooler filled with ice. I can't wait to have an ice cold one. My mouth waters at the thought, and my mind tries not to get stuck on how to handle the rest of the evening. But, I'm quickly lost in my thoughts. So lost, in fact, that I don't hear how the men's voices quiet behind me. I don't move as the bartender sets my beer on the bar in front of me. I don't move until I hear her voice.

"Hey, can I get two glasses of white wine, and one red?"

I turn and find Katniss leaning on the bar.

"Sure." The bartender smiles as he retrieves the glasses for her.

"Hi," she says.

For a moment, I'm speechless. Seeing her up close, wrapped in a dark green sari, wearing a matching bindi, she looks so different than the girl I followed home for weeks. Sure, she's got the same grey eyes, and heart-shaped lips. But her eyes are somehow silver in this light and her lips that much more plump. Her hair is pulled into a braid, as usual. But it's...shinier.

"Hi," I manage. "You... You look beautiful."

"Thanks," she smiles. "My mother says every woman looks beautiful in a sari."

"Well, I don't know about that. But _you_ look..." I shake my head, searching for the words, but I come up short. I lower my voice as I speak again. "I've been thinking about you since you left." It was only a couple of hours ago.

"You mean since _you_ left?" she asks.

I press my lips into a tight line. I didn't _leave_, not really. We parted ways at the elevator with a long, slow kiss. And then I brought Delhi here.

I'm kind of fucking things up, aren't I?

"So. Three glasses of wine, huh?"

"It's for the couple. Well, the red's for me. They're just finishing up her mehndi, and someone had to go get drinks." She holds up her newly decorated hands and arches an eyebrow at me.

I smile a little, resisting the urge to move closer. "Why'd they pick you?" I ask.

"Oh. I volunteered. I'm almost dry, anyway."

I forget myself and I take a step closer to look at the dark brown floral design that begins at her elbow and winds with vines all the way down the back of her hand to her fingertips. "You still look wet to me."

Shit.

The corners of her mouth turn up as she locks eyes with me. "I guess I am... still wet." I don't miss how she bites her bottom lip, ever so slightly.

"Good." I catch Ry watching us out of the corner of his eye and I take a step back. I clear my throat. "I mean, the longer it's on the darker it gets, right?" She nods her head slowly.

"Yeah." She nods her head and looks back down at her hands. "If it's not on long enough, then it just ends up looking like a rash. Though, as it fades it reaches that point, anyway." She frowns. "I shouldn't have let them put so much on me."

"Then why did you?"

"It's hard for me to say no to Prim."

I smile at that. She obviously loves her sister very much. It reminds me of my own relationship with Rydvic. Though I doubt he'd take a bullet for me.

"She's a little bummed out since our father is overseas and can't make the party."

"Overseas?"

"For work. Mama's here, but she's just a shell when he's gone."

Three glasses are set onto the bar in front of her.

"I can help you carry the wine," I offer. "You wouldn't want that to smear."

"No, I suppose not. Thank you."

She gingerly picks up the glass of red using her index fingers and thumbs, and chances smearing the entire design as she chugs the entire thing in several gulps.

"Thirsty?" I tease.

She smirks at me, then sets the glass back down onto the bar. "May I have another?" She asks the bartender. She turns back to me. "I'll need something to toast with."

"Oh, are you making a toast?"

That _is_ interesting. It's traditional for family members to speak at events like these, but the toast isn't really an Indian tradition. It's just one of those things that have seeped into our norm from western culture that no one seems to mind.

"Yeah, but..." she trails off. "...I'm no good at saying something."

I smile. "You didn't strike me as the shy type, Ms. Everdeen."

Less than 24 hours ago, she was underneath me, saying things no timid woman could possibly come up with. No... She's not shy.

"I'm not shy," she confirms. She's set her palms flat on the bar now, trying to keep them safe. "I kind of shoot off at the mouth sometimes. But, I don't want to embarrass Prim. We're the common folk here, after all. Wouldn't want to say something to make things worse."

"Common folk?" I ask, and Katniss nods her head. "Is it really that bad?"

Katniss doesn't answer, but she gives me a look that lets me know just how tense the situation actually is, and that she's much very aware of it. I guess I should've known. Delhi tried to discuss it with me already. I'm sure she's not the only one who's whispering about the bride's family background tonight.

Her newly refilled glass is set back onto the bar. I collect all three drinks on a tray and follow her though the banquet hall. The men are still quiet, and for the first time, I notice why. Amma has emerged, and is speaking with Daddy, seemingly unaware of how uncomfortable everyone is around her. The men don't get much time to socialize, and she's stepping on their toes. Uncle Hay doesn't hide his distaste for her at all. He excuses himself from the group, and makes his way over to the bar. His eyes drift from Katniss to me, and he smiles.

Amma's jaw stops moving as her eyes scan the room and fall on me, trailing behind a woman. Carrying her drinks. Doing servant's work.

"Peetha!" she calls me from across the room.

Katniss and I both stop in our tracks and turn as Amma makes her way over to us.

"Hello again." Amma's head rocks from side to side as she regards Katniss.

"Mrs. Mellark."

"Please. Call me Atta. Your father and I are old friends." I know that is a lie, but it's important to be familiar. That's why we all grew up with so many aunties who aren't aunties at all.

Katniss smiles, mimicking Amma's gesture. "Atta."

Amma smiles in satisfaction. "Is your sister nearly through?"

"Yes. I was bringing her and Thom some wine." Amma tried to hide her distaste for that. Amma hates alcohol. She hates to be around people while they consume it. "And Peetha was helping me." Katniss holds up her hands, explaining my involvement. But I know that won't do.

Amma snaps her fingers rudely towards a waiter as he passes by. "Please help the young lady carry her drinks."

"I've got it, Amma," I insist.

"Peetha, you could ruin your clothes. Besides, Rydvic is looking for you."

I look at Ry, who is laughing again. Daddy must be telling another dirty joke. Though, he's noticeably quieter about it since Amma is still in the room. Ry's not looking for me.

"It's okay, Peetha," Katniss says. The waiter takes the tray from my hands, and I don't protest any further. I watch Katniss walk back into the foyer. Amma steps beside me.

"Darwish's mother should be ashamed," Amma asserts. "Not parading them around like this."

"What?"

"That girl's father and grandfather both-" Amma looks around the room before lowering her voice and continuing. "They served in the military." Amma shakes her head.

Military. So... If this were India, they would be... Kshatriya, maybe? One down from Brahmin. That's if she would rate on the caste system at all. Her mixed Caribbean blood might just make her lower than the untouchables. I don't really know, I was raised here. That can't be the big scandal everyone's gossiping about, can it? Not that it _should_ matter. Amma's told me time and time again that the caste system is outdated. That it _doesn't_ matter. Obviously though on some level, it still does. Why else would the thread ceremony still be performed? Nostalgia? It's one thing to carry on tradition, but if that's all it were, then marrying outside of one's caste wouldn't cause a sensation.

Although, I guess the fact that this wedding is happening _at_ _all_ is testament to the fact that things have changed.

"Primrose must be a special girl," I suggest.

"Yes. Special." Amma nods. "Or perhaps she's pregnant."

I can't help but frown at the suggestion.

"I should... go."

"Ah, yes. Delhi was getting her mehndi last I saw her."

Oh. Right. Delhi.

"I'll go check on her," I say as I step away. I pass by the large rectangular table bearing little white cards with our names on it.

_Mr. Peetha Mellark & Ms. Delhi Cartwright._

There are 20 tables, and we're seated at Table 4. We're not seated with anyone we go to school with.

When I get back to the foyer, it's just in time to hear the end of Katniss's toast to Thom and Prim. There's a crowd gathered in a circle around them, so I join in. Thom is standing close to Prim, so close that their shoulders are touching. Scandalous.

Katniss smiles, obviously holding back tears. "...and I wish you both the best as you begin your lifelong journey together."

There are tears in Prim's eyes too as Katniss raises her glass. Katniss receives a round of applause and a hug from both Prim and Thom. They're careful not to touch each other's mehndi.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn about to find Delhi behind me. I smile at her, but she doesn't return it. It doesn't seem like her mood has improved much.

"Did you find our seats?"

I nod my head and hand her the folded piece of paper. Delhi rolls her eyes as she snatches it away.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, it's just that I wanted my hands _and_ my feet done, but they said this is all they're going to do." She holds up her hand and I gently grab her wrist, examining the simplistic swirling design that begins on the back of her index finger and wraps around her wrist.

"I like it. It's simple."

Delhi pulls her hand back. "It's not what I wanted." I nod my head as she checks her phone and huffs out a breath before shoving it back into her purse. "Why won't my roommates answer my texts?" She's no less stressed than before we spoke outside. I kind of feel like an asshole.

"Katniss is right over there if you want to talk to her." I point to where Katniss is still accepting congratulations for her toast.I didn't get to hear much of it, but everyone seemed really touched by it, so it must've been good. I don't know what she was worried about.

"I already spoke with Katniss," Delhi says shortly.

I shrug a shoulder and try not to be offended by her attitude. I know I'm partially responsible for it.

"Should we go inside? Maybe get a drink?" I extend my hand to her, and her eyes slowly drift from my open palm up to my face. I smile questioningly at her, and finally she softens.

"Sure. We said we'd have a good time, right?"

"I don't see why not."

She slips her undecorated hand into mine and I tuck her fingertips into the crook of my arm. I lead her into the hallway and to our seats.

I spend the next hour being the perfect gentleman as the banquet hall slowly fills up with guests. Prim and Thom are nowhere to be found, and neither is Katniss, so I try to focus on the people at our table. I make two drink runs, ensuring that Delhi's glass is never empty, and even track down a little dustpan to clean up once Delhi has scratched the now dried mehndi from her skin. I pretend to be excited about the people at our table, even though we are obviously a mishmash of a group.

"Maybe they didn't know what to do with us," I suggest over the family style meal of tofu saag, vegetable korma, and chicken biryani they've set onto the table. None of these dishes are South Indian, but they're all delicious.

Prim's friend Bristel laughs and finishes her pink drink - I think she called it a bay breeze -slurping up the last sip with one of those thin red straws. "No. Look how close to the couple we're seated."

"So?" Delhi challenges.

Bristel rolls her eyes. "It's like in ancient times."

"Ancient times, babe?" Rory, her date, teases her. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. I read about this in school," Bristel defends.

"Not this again," Rory sighs. "You're a freshman. You've taken one psych class. You're not an expert on human behavior."

"Hey, that was an informative lecture!" Bristel slaps Rory's shoulder. "But I was talking about one of my world cultures classes."

"Which culture?" I ask.

"Ancient Rome."

"What did you learn?" Delhi asks.

Rory sits back in his chair with a huff as Bristel beams at Delhi for asking. He goes back to his meal as Bristel turns to Delhi. "Well, it's like this. Your proximity to the host of the party shows how important you are in that person's life. We're all close to the couple somehow, and probably in similar ways, since we're at the same table. We just have to figure out what that is. Our common link."

Looking around, I can see that Ry and Saloni are at the same table as Amma and Daddy, and that they're farther away. Whatever their common link is, it separates them from me.

"Oh, that's easy," Delhi offers. "We're in Katniss's section."

I nearly choke on my drink. "What?" I ask.

"_You_ know Katniss," Delhi insists. Her voice doesn't waver and her eyes bore into mine. Yes... Yes, I know Katniss. I nod my head.

"Yeah, but I'm friends with Thom." Where the hell is Thom anyway? Looking around, I can't see him or Prim anywhere. They must still be outside, receiving guests. I doubt I'll get to spend any time with him at all.

"Well, you're also my date," Delhi explains. I frown, but I don't try to tell her that this isn't a date. "I bet you we'll all be seated together at the wedding, too," Delhi continues. Oh shit. I didn't think as far ahead as the wedding.

"Katniss," Bristel says as she mulls it over.

"Yeah. The bride's sister. The maid of honor," Delhi says.

"Obviously, I know who she is." Bristel says. "Besides, there isn't going to be a maid of honor."

"They're having a Christian ceremony too. So, yeah, there is," Delhi corrects.

"They are?" Bristel asks.

Delhi nods. "Yeah. Katniss has Christian relatives. And I'm pretty sure I saw Christmas decorations in her storage stuff."

So... Katniss might be Christian. Interesting.

"You're Bristel, right?" Bristel nods. "Katniss used to babysit you."

"That's right."

"And Rory... Isn't Gale your brother?"

"Gale?" I ask incredulously and I study the young boy's features. Yes. He could be Gale's brother.

"Yeah," Rory says, watching me watch him. "You know Gale?"

"Oh. Yeah. I met him through Katniss." My explanation earns me a glare form Delhi. "Gale's a good guy," I lie. Rory nods his head. "Where he tonight?"

"He had to work," Rory explains. "Hopefully he can escort Katniss to the wedding."

Hopefully he'll go play in traffic instead.

Delhi gestures to the empty chairs at the table. "Mrs. Sae and her husband own the gym Katniss worked at in high school."

"Katniss worked at a gym?" I ask. I'm asking too many questions about Katniss.

"Yeah," Delhi says as she gulps down the last of her vodka cranberry. "She taught archery to the kids. She's really good. She shoots at school now, too."

"She does?"

I've asked a little too enthusiastically, because Delhi gives me another look. I don't ask anything more.

"So how long have you two been dating?" Bristel asks.

"No, no, no..." Delhi and I say in chorus.

"We're not dating," I say.

"I'm not dating him," she says.

Something about the way Delhi said "him" doesn't sit right with me. I give her a weird look. But, I don't get the chance to ask her what the fuck that was about, because the DJ has just arrived, and the lights are dimmed. Loud dance music with a heavy base thuds through the room. It's an India beat that leads into typical dance music.

Thom and Prim have arrived, and both insist over the loud speaker that we are to all enjoy ourselves, and that they won't subject us to anything corny, such as a relative singing. Prim points to Katniss and insists that we're missing out, though. Delhi confirms that Katniss has a beautiful voice. I shrug my shoulders indifferently at the news.

As Prim and Thom retire to their seats, the music is cranked up and, all at once, people begin to leave their seats. Indians just _love_ to dance.

Delhi leans in.

"Let's dance."

And Delhi is no different.

Soon the perimeter of the wooden dance floor is outlined with abandoned shoes and full of moving bodies. There's a drummer, wandering through the sea of drunk and happy people, playing in time with the base of each song. Delhi and I move together, dancing closely, but not touching. She's kicked off her heels and taken down her hair. She smiles at me, looking the most relaxed she's been all night.

The temperature rises and my body sweats. I'm still wearing shoes and my feet are telling me I need a break. I notice Katniss as she moves across the dance floor. I didn't even know she was in here. Man, it's crowded. She doesn't see me. She twists out of the crowd and slips her shoes back on. She exits the banquet hall towards the hallway with the restrooms. I give it two minutes before I decide to follow her. I grab Delhi's hand and point to the restroom sign. She nods in understanding and turns away, continuing to sway her full hips to the beat of the music.

As I reach the hallway, Katniss steps out of the ladies room. I move quickly. I close the distance between us in two strides and keep my eyes on her as I reach for her. My fingers are on the back of her neck, pulling her closer as our lips press together. I try to hide my relieved sigh as I pull away, far enough to look into her eyes. I can't help but smile as her hands wrap around me.

"What are you doing?" she breathes.

"I'm sorry." I'm not sorry. "I had to."

I hear the light thud of the bathroom door being shut, and I pull away. I turn my head to find Prim smiling at us.

"Hi, Peetha," she smirks.

"Uh. Hi."

Kantiss frowns and nods her head towards the banquet hall. "Bye Prim."

Prim holds up her hand and I can se the design drawn on her palm more closely now. I think I see a peacock. I'll have to ask Amma what that means later. Once Prim disappears into the banquet hall, Katniss smiles at me before looking left and right in the empty hallway. She interlaces her fingers with mine, and then she pulls me around a corner, where the light barely reaches.

I press her back against the wall and I kiss her again, inhaling deeply as she returns it. I open my mouth and trace her bottom lip with my tongue, and I feel a jolt of electricity shoot down my spine as she opens for me. I explore her slowly, thoroughly, and my fingertips drift down her sides as I make every effort to memorize her shape.

She pulls away first, biting her now swollen lip. I lean over her with my hand pressed against the wall as she brings the inside of her wrist up to her lips and wipes.

"That was good," she says with a small smile. "But I can't mess up my make up."

"Sorry."

"It's fine," she assures me.

"I just had to taste you again." She blushes as she looks away. "Your toast was lovely." I lean in and kiss her lips again. "And so are you."

"Peetha."

"You told your sister about me, huh?" I smile she she blushes again. "Yeah. You did," I accuse.

I lean in again. But she turns head to the side. I pull back and look at her questioningly. She's not smiling any more. "You should get back to Delhi."

"Katniss-"

"I told you to let me know if you still feel this way tomorrow."

I brush her face gently with my fingertips. "Of course I will."

"The night is young," she counters. "A lot can change."

"So?" I furrow my brow in confusion. "Do you still want to?"

"Of course." She rocks her head side to side in affirmation. And I can't help but chuckle. "What?"

I mimic her movements, rocking my head as she did a moment ago. "Nothing," I tease.

She playfully slaps my chest and lets out a quiet laugh of her own. "It's hard not to do it when everyone else is."

"So you've got revertigo?"

"What's revertigo?"

"That's when you change how you act depending on who you're with."

"Mmm," Katniss says as she makes a show of mulling it over with her hands. "I get what you mean." She tugs at my collar. "You've got it, too. You're not wearing any smartass T-shirt under this, are you?"

"No, I am not."

"You dress different. You act different."

"I act exactly the same," I defend.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Show me," she challenges.

I lick my lips as she tilts her chin up for me. I lean in to kiss her again... but I'm stopped by Amma's voice.

"Peetha?"

Shit. I still my movements.

"Who is that?" Katniss mouths.

"My mother."

Katniss looks at me confused. Perhaps she's unaware of how unacceptable my mother finds her family.

"Where are you?" Amma beckons again.

"I'm here!" I call out, before I can realize what a mistake I've made. I try to convey my apologies to Katniss with a look as I push myself away from the wall - and her. I round the corner and do my best to appear acceptable to Amma. "Hi, Amma." I try to keep my voice even, not betraying how annoyed I am that we were interrupted.

"What are you doing in the hallway?"

"Nothing," I say as I step past her. I manage to make it two steps towards the banquet hall before she speaks again.

"You left Delhi all alone."

"She was dancing."

"A gentleman would dance with her."

"I am. I just needed some air. It's hot in there."

The sound of the door creaking forces Amma's attention away from me and she catches a glimpse of Katniss as she slips back into the banquet hall.

Damn it.

"Peetha," she begins and I look away. I know by her tone that a lecture is coming. "That's not a good idea."

"Come again?"

"You should know that we won't be as lenient with you as we were with Ry."

"What?"

"Let me make myself clear." Amma steps closer. "If you do not have any sort of acceptable domestic stability but the time you graduate, then I'm afraid we will be unable to support your graduate level education. Or your lifestyle."

"So... If I'm not engaged... You're gonna cut me off?"

Amma lowers her voice, but the look in her eye is unwavering. "I sincerely hope it does not come to that."

She spins around and reenters the banquet hall, leaving me standing there, alone in the empty hallway, her words echoing through my head.

They won't support my education.

Or my lifestyle.

They'll cut me off.

What the fuck does that even mean? I'm studying what they want me to study. I live in the dorms because they want me to. I attend every stupid function they want. I don't think I've ever been so confused and angry with Amma before.

And I've been confused and angry a lot.

Delhi's still dancing when I reenter the banquet hall. Katniss is, too. But I can't go back out there just yet. I need a drink.

I spot Uncle Hay at the bar, swirling a clear liquid in a high roller glass. He's clearly had a few.

"Hey, boy," he greets me.

"Hi, Uncle Hay."

He follows my gaze to the dance floor, where I'm looking between Delhi and Katniss.

"Seems you got a decision to make, huh, boy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine. Deny it if that makes you feel better. But let me just tell you what my father told me back when I was on the fence about Auntie May."

This gets my attention. Uncle Hay doesn't discuss Auntie May much. Not since she passed away 25 years ago, a mere 2 years into their marriage.

"Alasyam amrutam visham," he proclaims.

I roll my eyes. "Amma says that when she wants me to take out the trash." It's an old proverb, that means if you don't act appropriately, even the food of the gods will turn into poison.

"Your mother's used it in the most cynical way possible."

I shrug a shoulder. That's possible. "What is it supposed to mean, then?"

"Means timing is important. I wasted too much time trying to decide if Auntie May was a good fit." He shakes his head at himself. "Of course she was."

Was she?

It's a well known fact that Auntie May was Shudra, and worked in the Abernathy home as a servant girl. Falling in love with the help is part of why Uncle Hay isn't as respected as he once was. But... he married in 1970 India. It's not the same as it is here and now.

Uncle Hay motions for the bartender to refill his glass. "It turned out I had so little time with her."

"I don't understand."

"Timing's important, boy. One day you might wake up and realize she's gone. And then it won't matter how much money you have..." His voice cracks as he trails off, and he takes a swig of his drink. "Riches, on all levels, aren't meant to be enjoyed alone. You hear me?"

I nod my head as I process his words. He's right. Of course he is. I look at him thankfully, opening my mouth to convey my gratitude, but his drink slips out of his hand, the glass shattering as it falls to the ground. I slip away in the confusion of the cleanup.

When I get back to the table, Delhi is sitting there by herself. She's on her phone again, so I don't announce my arrival. I simply sit down next to her... and watch Katniss on the dance floor.

"Can we go?" Delhi asks.

Her phone is on the table in front of her and she's staring at it. She's not looking at me at all.

"Sure."

The train ride back to the city is as silent as the train ride out to Queens. Delhi is tired and drunk, and she seems lost in her own thoughts. Which is fine with me, since I've got plenty of my own to mull over.

When we reach 14th Street, I spring for a cab ride to take us across town, even though I should probably count my dollars more closely. I may soon have to support myself. Finally we make it back to 3rd North. I escort Delhi to the front door of her suite.

"I had a nice time," Delhi says.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too."

She checks her phone again. "I can't believe how late it is."

"Yeah, I know," I yawn. "I should get downstairs. Goodnight." I spin around, but I stop when I feel Delhi's fingers curl around my bicep.

"Wait!"

"Yeah?" I question. As I turn to face her, I freeze.

She's leaning in.

She's leaning in for a kiss.

I've only got a moment to think. And all my exhausted brain can come up with to stop her is "uhhh," which is understandably ineffective. A moment later, her lips are pressed against mine.

It's a hard, tight lipped, questioning kiss... and I find myself holding my breath the entire time. All three seconds.

Delhi releases me and her forehead drops to my chest. I instinctively bring my hands to her elbows and try to make sense of what just happened... And why Delhi is sniffling.

"Are you crying?"

Delhi pulls away and turns away from me, wiping her eyes. "No." Her breath hitches.

"What's wrong?"

"That was... awful!" She says, finally giving into her sobs. Her body shakes, and I move to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry. I mean... I didn't think it was _that_ terrible." Her shoulders shake. She's laughing through her tears. "Are you actually _laughing_ at me?"

"No, no. It's not you."

"What is it, then?"

"Peetha," she manages as she tries to control her cries. "I... haven't been totally honest with you."

"Okay...?"

Delhi takes a deep breath. "I'm seeing someone."

"Oh? I mean - oh. That's fine, I mean. This wasn't a date or anything."

She spins around and her watery eyes meet mine. "You didn't think last night was a date?"

"Uh, well."

"Or tonight?"

"No," I say almost apologetically. "I didn't."

Delhi rolls her eyes. "Perfect. So we're fighting over nothing."

"What? You're fighting?"

Delhi nods. "I thought we were on a date. And obviously I shouldn't have been." She retrieves her phone again and stares at the screen. "I should give this a real chance."

"Delhi, I don't really know what to say here, but if there's someone you're seeing, then I don't know why you agreed to go out with me in the first place."

"Amma asked me to."

I nod. "Same."

She chuckles and wipes the tears from her eyes. I lean against the wall next to her. "So, what's this guy's name anyway?"

Her eyes cut over to me. "Madge."

"Madge!?" I lean forward. "Your roommate Madge?" Delhi nods. "Huh," I say. I had no idea she was into girls.

"What?"

"Nothing," I lie. I consider telling her that's kind of hot, but I think better of it. "So... You've been looking for messages from Madge all night?"

Delhi nods. "I haven't seen or spoken with her since we went out to dinner last night." She lowers her voice. "She's really angry with me."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault, Peetha. It's mine." She takes another deep breath, and finally calms. "You know how it is. Amma would never take a relationship like this seriously." She lowers her voice. "Sometimes I think people... shouldn't be like us."

I nod my head. I know exactly what she means. Being born and raised in America by Indian immigrants gives you an interesting perspective on the world. We want to keep the culture alive, but enjoy the fruits of western civilization, too. Sometimes a balance can't be met.

"My Amma threatened to cut me off if I'm not engaged soon."

"Oh, Peetha..."

I shake my head. "It's fine. I'll be fine."

Delhi's brow knits together in confusion and she leans against the wall. We fall silent again. She plays with the keys in her hand.

"So," she begins, finally filling the silence. "You and Katniss. Am I imagining things?"

I shake my head. "No. There could be something there, I think."

"I think so, too. Even if she's not Brahmin," Delhi teases.

"Oh yeah? Well, is Madge Brahmin?" I ask with a small laugh. As if it would matter if she were.

"No," Delhi sighs. "She's as white as they come. And I think I love her."

"Well then, Ms. Cartwright, I suggest you apologize to her."

"Yeah."

I push off of the wall. "Now that you have ripped out my heart, I suppose the only thing left to do is to step aside." Delhi and I share a laugh. "And let me know if you ever need anything." I nudge her elbow. "We _should_ hang out more."

"Yeah, we should." She opens her door. "Goodnight, Peetha."

"Goodnight."

The door shuts behind her, and I stay, staring at her door, long after the lock clicks and her footsteps fade.


	5. Eternally Happy

Hey everyone!

Quick disclaimer: I'm African American. I wasn't raised Hindu. But, I'm also not on the outside looking in - My husband and I had both a City Hall wedding as well as a ceremony at a temple (my mil called it a pooja, as we refused the three-day-long wedding). I don't think I'm speaking completely out of my ass in this fic, but the way I explain things in this chapter are _my interpretation_ of what's been explained to me. Not doctrine.

Thanks to the always lovely MockingJayFlyingFree for beta'ing and helping me get through this in general. I assume you've all already read her latest update of The Miner's Wife? No? Well, what are you waiting for? Lauralulubee also preread this chapter and Passionately_Curios have me feedback with the most difficult scene. They both have excellent fics as well, if you're looking to begin something new. Thanks, ladies!

SPOILER ALERT: DESCRPTION OF A SCENE FROM "_PAWN SHOP CHRONICLES_"

Lastly, check out my tumblr, bitcheslovesprinkles, for drabbles from this universe. So far, two are posted.

* * *

"_**May this couple be eternally happy."**_

I'm not sure how long I've been here. I'm still in the same hallway, still staring at Delhi's door. At some point I stepped backwards and slid my back down the wall. That's where I am now. Sitting. Thinking. Trying to make sense of things.

The elevator dings and the metal doors slide open, rousing me from my own thoughts. I look up and I see _her_, and I realize... I've been waiting for her. I've been waiting for her all along.

She freezes when she sees me. Her mouth is open and she's not moving. Her silver eyes sparkle against the dark green of the sari she's still wearing.

"What are you doing here?"

I push myself up to stand. "I..." I search for an explanation. "...I needed to see you." I step closer.

"Why?" She's not moving closer. But she's not moving away either.

"You know why, Katniss."

She shakes her head as I reach out for her, gripping her hip with one hand and tangling my fingers in her hair with the other. She places her palms on my chest, but she doesn't push.

"Tell me," she whispers.

I lick my lips slowly as I search for the words she needs to hear. "I want to be with you."

I pull her close, claiming her lips and inhaling her deeply. I feel her smile against me before she opens for me, moving with me. But then she pulls away.

"Peetha-"

"It's after midnight. It's officially tomorrow, and nothing's changed between us."

"No?"

"No."

She laughs under her breath and rolls her eyes. "I'm sure that will thrill your mother. You liking a girl that's half Kshatriya."

"Probably not."

"_And_ half Christian."

"Hardly," I admit. "But I couldn't care less." I lean in and kiss her again.

"Good," she murmurs against my lips.

I pull her closer, and pour everything good I feel for her into the kiss. Our lips move together, and I can't help but tighten my grip on her. When I pull away, she's breathless.

"Wow," she whispers.

"Yeah," I agree.

She shifts her weight and a moment later, she's three inches shorter. She deposits her shoes beside the door of the suite. Her fingers curl around my wrists. "I want to show you something."

I nod my head as I allow her to pull me, kicking off my shoes as we walk. Her hips sway as she walks ahead of me, leading me down the corridor and into the stair well. We reach a door with a red alarm attached to the top of it. I've never been up here before and it looks like a dead end to me. But then Katniss does something to disable the alarm, and pushes the door open without a sound.

The roof isn't lit at night, but it doesn't matter. The ambient glow of the city surrounds us the moment our feet touch the concrete and tile surface. Even with the constant noise of people and traffic below us, the night air is sweet. I breathe deeply, and realize I've been feeling like a caged animal all evening.

Katniss leans forward, pressing her arms against the railing. "This is my favorite part about living here."

There's not much of a view. 3rd North is hardly the tallest building in the neighborhood, after all, and as part of the Manhattan skyline, we don't really get to _see_ much of it. Katniss motions for me to come closer, beckoning me with a hooked finger and a smile.

"They turn off the lights at midnight," she tells me.

"Oh."

"Did you know that the Empire State Building has assigned lighting for every day of the year?" She points north and I smile as the top of the skyscraper becomes clear to me. But it's not until Katniss begins to unbraid her hair that I'll admit to myself that the view up here is perfect after all.

"So next year on this day, the Empire State will be-"

"Signature white." She nods her head. "They have colors for occasions. Like red, white and blue for July 4th, green for St. Patty's day and so on. But I like the signature white days best."

"Why's that?"

"Because they remind me that every day is special." She turns to face me. "Don't you think every day is special?"

I don't. I take so much for granted. I don't do things like this. I don't enjoy the moonlight. I can't remember the last time I saw the sunrise.

"I should," I admit. "I guess sometimes I need to slow down."

She looks away. "We haven't been going very slow."

"No," I admit. I wasn't exactly raised to smell the roses. I _am_ from a culture that arranges marriages, after all. I cover her hand with mine. "We can take this at whatever pace you're comfortable with."

"This?"

"Whatever this is, or could be. I don't want to rush it... But I've never wanted to know anyone so much before."

She flips her hand and our fingers interlace. "What do you want to know?" I open my mouth to answer. "Now that you already know how I taste."

I smile sheepishly. "You know what they say about drunken actions."

"That they're sober thoughts?"

"Exactly," I say as we share a laugh. "I can't stop thinking about kissing you."

"Me neither." She rolls her eyes at herself. "But about you." My gaze drops to her lips, and she licks them slowly. I'm tempted, so temped to claim her mouth again. But I force myself to look away.

"So," I say as I lower myself to the floor and take a seat, stretching my legs out in front of me. "Will you tell me about Trinidad?"

She smiles widely as she joins me, setting her keys and phone down next to her. "I just love it there. The people, the food, the air... and Carnival is amazing."

"You've been to Carnival?"

She nods. "I try to go every year, with Prim if we can afford it. Though with her getting married now, I don't know if she'll..." she trails off. "Have you ever been?"

I shake my head. "Nick tried to drag me to the West Indian parade once," I offer.

She shakes her head. "It's not the same."

"I heard it's dangerous."

"It can be, yeah. But that's because Americans don't party like Caribbeans."

"And how do Caribbeans party?"

"You know." She begins to dance slowly in place, moving her arms over her head. "We just... We move to the music. We move with each other." She blushes when she realizes I'm staring again, and brings her hands down. "Americans are funny about personal space."

"Have you been on the subway?" There _is_ no personal space.

"That's different. Normal rules of society don't apply on the subway...or in the gym." I chuckle. She's clearly thought about this. "Okay, think of every club you've ever been to. Yeah, people dance. But in a designated place, and once they leave the dance floor, they don't want anyone to touch them. How many people have you heard of getting shot because they scuffed someone's sneakers?"

Finnick's got a pair of Air Force Ones that are all white. He literally cleans them with a toothbrush after he wears them, which is almost never because they're so high maintenance. "You've got a point."

"So, you've got Caribbeans partying in the streets, like they would back home, and Americans not being used to it. That's how conflict begins."

"So...better to enjoy Carnival in the Caribbean?"

"Of course." She smiles.

"Tell me more."

Katniss tells me more about the house she and her sister grew up in, and then she hangs onto my every word as I tell her about the time I spent in India. Stories of washing clothes in hidden fresh water are exchanged for conch diving in the Caribbean Sea. We talk about islands we'd like to visit in the tropics, and monuments we'd like to see in an Indian metropolis. I've never been to the Taj Mahal - I've never been anywhere in the north, and she finds the distinction maddening.

She tells me about her volunteer work. It turns out her reason for knowing ASL is slightly more noble than mine: She works with hearing impaired kids. I tell her a half truth when she asks me how I learned, saying I picked it up at the library.

We talk about her archery. How she and Gale have been petitioning for an archery club on campus. We talk about our favorite places to eat in the area. We talk until we run out of things to talk about.

We're quiet for a long moment, comfortably enjoying each other's company as the sounds of the city down out our slow breaths. It's Katniss who speaks first.

"You know..." She tugs at a stray thread on her sari. The now familiar scent of her vanilla shampoo comforts me. "You may have been following me, but I knew you were there." I lean forward as the words seem to tumble out of her mouth. "I guess I was watching you too."

I press my lips against hers, and I almost regret the decision because it means she's no longer telling me everything I've wanted to hear since I first laid eyes on her. But as she sighs into the kiss, making sounds that cause my hair to stand on end, I can't pull away. I kiss her, using my tongue to massage hers, pulling her close and enjoying the feeling of her chest pressed up against mine.

"Peetha," she sighs as we finally break apart.

"The way you say my name is perfect."

She looks away, trying not to smile. "I'm getting kind of tired."

I nod my head. "Okay."

There's tension hanging in the air as we stand, collecting our effects and dusting ourselves off. I hold her hand tightly as she leads me back inside, reconnects the alarm, and descends the stairs. I pick up our shoes as she unlocks her door.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Always."

I follow her inside. We pass through the darkened common area. The layout is different than my suite, but it's mostly the same. Kitchenette area to the right, ugly blue couches to the left. I follow her down the narrow hallway and into her bedroom.

"Make yourself at home," she says as she sets her keys and phone down on her dresser. "Oh. Put that scrunchie on the dresser on the doorknob."

I reach for it and comply. I assume this is her signal to whoever she shares a room with to give her some privacy. I shut and lock the door behind me.

"Thanks. Jo probably won't be home till tomorrow anyway, but just in case."

I yank my tunic up and over my head and hold the garment in my hand. I look up in time to see Katniss turn away from me as she pulls her hair to the side. In the moonlit room, I watch her decorated fingers as she reaches for her shoulder, and unfolds the fabric of her sari across her chest. The garment collapses beautifully around her, pooling at her feet and surrounding her. My dick hardens at the sight. I've never seen a woman take _off_ a sari before, but I don't imagine it always looks like this. The bangles around her wrist catch the moonlight, and she sparkles. She's left wearing her underwear, a black bra and boy short set - so different from what I normally would think to find under a sari. But then again that's what makes this so amazing.

"You look beautiful," I whisper.

She turns to face me, with her hands on her hips. She's not shy, not ashamed of her body. "And you look like a genie."

I look down at myself. At the parachute-looking pants that the tunic I was wearing concealed. I smirk at her as I untie the pants and let them fall away. Once they're gone, my erection strains against the fabric of my boxer briefs. Katniss's mocking smile disappears and she licks her lips.

A moment passes between us, as I step closer. I'm not sure how far we'll take things tonight. I know now that what we were doing the other night would have been a mistake. I don't want to chase her away. Her eyes cloud with desire as I reach for her. I'm not sure where on her body my hands will land. I surprise even myself when our fingertips touch. I pull her close by her hands and lean down kissing her lips once. "We should go to sleep?" I say. No. I asked. I definitely asked.

She lets out a shaky breath. "Okay?"

She sits on the bed and slides over towards the wall. I climb into bed beside her, and move closer. This is a twin mattress after all. We lie together and spend the next two minutes settling in. I offer her my arm as a pillow. She tries resting her ankle on mine. We soon end up spooning, with her facing the wall and my arm draped over her middle. She shifts uncomfortably and groans into her pillow. Then she inches away. "Sorry."

"What's wrong?"

"You're um... Really hard."

I can feel my ears burning, I'm blushing so hard. "You're beautiful, Katniss. And soft and warm." I squeeze her hip and she doesn't complain as I pull her closer, pressing her ass against me. "Of course my dick is gonna be hard."

"Mmm, that feels good," she sighs as she wiggles her ass against me.

"Fuck..." My hand slides down and reaches between her legs. I can feel her heat radiate between her thighs as I tuck my fingers between her legs. "This isn't going to work," I say as she lifts her leg, allowing me to rub her freely over her underwear. Her breathing deepens, and I kiss the side of her exposed neck, causing her to shudder. "I don't think I should be in the same bed as you right now." Her wetness seeps through the fabric, and I roll my hips against her. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she whispers as she shakes her head. "Don't stop."

I rub her harder, circling the pads of my fingers over the wet spot on her underwear that's only getting bigger. Her hand covers mine and she moves with me, showing me how she likes it. I kiss my way down her shoulder, and then she cranes her neck, turning back and looking for me. I thrust hard against her, rub her faster, and find her lips, kissing her deeply. Her hand is on my hip and she's gripping tightly, digging into my skin. I groan against her as the skin breaks, and she scratches down my side. Her entire body tenses as she gets closer. She finds her release with a series of moans and quiet whimpers. Her body trembles in my arms and I watch wide-eyed as she falls apart, so vulnerable under my touch. I feel an intense need to protect her. To make her feel good, and then protect her... This is new.

"Damn, Peetha."

"I know," I agree as I study the wetness on my fingertips in the moonlight.

I feel Katniss reach behind her and her fingers graze my boxers. But I stop her. "No..." I take a deep breath. "Let's slow down, okay?"

She peers at me, holding my gaze as she blinks against the desire she's feeling. "But I want-"

"Katniss, whatever you want, I'll give it to you. I'll never say no, I promise. But please don't ask me tonight." I've never had this feeling... I need it to last a little longer, so that I can make sense of it. "Please just let me hold you."

"Okay." She nods her head. "Hold me," she says as she lies back down.

I adjust myself as I settle down next to her.

"You're still hard. Aren't you?"

"Yep."

"I'm still wet."

"Not helping."

She laughs quietly at me. "Goodnight, Peetha."

I tuck my knees more securely behind hers and kiss the back of her head. "Goodnight, Katniss."

Her breathing evens out long before I can calm myself down, which is no easy feat with Katniss beside me. She's all I can smell. But it's not just that. My brain is wired, my mind going a mile a minute as I try to make sense of this evening. Katniss, Delhi, Amma, and Haymitch's words all a jumble in my head.

_A lot can change._

_People shouldn't be like us._

_An acceptable domestic situation._

_We had so little time together._

_...every day is special._

Somewhere between dreams and the waking world, I feel the soft body of Katniss in my arms and I hold her tighter, afraid she'll disappear.

When sleep finally comes, it's a fitful nightmare of unfulfilled dreams, empty promises... and love lost. The night is too short and when it's over I can tell she's already gone before I fully drift into consciousness.

I yawn and stretch my arms above my head, and when I bring them down, I hear the crumple of the paper beside me. I smile to myself. She's left me a note.

"Morning, blondie."

My eyes fly open, but my vision is still blurry with sleep as I turn my head towards the sound of the voice. "Hi," I say, still trying to focus. "Jo, right? Roommate?" I finally make out the lean figure of a dark haired girl on the other side of the room, perched at the end of her bed.

"It's Johanna. And yeah, that'd be me." She turns the page of the textbook she's holding in her lap. "You gonna sleep all day?"

"No... I was just... What time is it?"

"Almost 9."

Oh. It's not that late. I sit up and reach for the note Katniss left me. I blink twice and read her words.

_Peetha,_

_Money's on the table next to the bed._

_Just kidding!_

_There is coffee, though. I have practice at the palladium. Didn't want to wake you. Come say hi if you want to. Dress for a run._

_Xo, Katniss_

_Oh, and don't mind Jo."_

"Some of us actually live here, you know." Johanna flips another page. "You're not homeless, are you?"

I chuckle. "No, I live downstairs."

"Sophomore?"

"Junior."

"Psychology?"

"Chemistry."

She raises her eyebrows. "I had you all wrong."

"Most people do." I sit up, realizing all I have to wear are my traditional clothes. "Katniss said there's coffee?"

Johanna taps a mug on the table beside her. From here it looks like a storm trooper's helmet. "Yup. I got the last of it."

"Oh."

She smiles. "I'm just messing with you. She made a whole pot. Go get some."

"Thanks." I groan as I climb out of bed. I look from myself to the door and back again.

"Just go in your boxers. No one's gonna care." I eye Johanna suspiciously and her gaze drops to my waistband. She smiles wickedly. "Well, no one's gonna _complain_, that is."

I stand and pick up my clothes, pushing my legs through my pants and then stretching my hands overhead again.

"She scratched you up good, huh?"

Shit...I reach down and pull my pants higher up on my hips, in an attempt to hide the marks Katniss left on my body. I don't answer Johanna. I twist my shirt in my hands, carefully considering the garment.

"Don't worry. You can barely see them."

I roll my eyes, but decide to go out there leaving my chest bare. I may look ridiculous, but at least I'm not going out there in my underwear. Or dressed in complete formal wear.

As soon as I open the door, I can't help but inhale deeply, detecting the standard scents of a girls dorm: perfumes, baby powder... I sniff again and recognize that someone living here must have their period. I take a step towards the kitchen and sigh in relief as the smell of coffee fills the air. There's an assortment of mugs on a makeshift cupboard that looks like someone made it out of an old Ikea desk. I trace my fingers over a mug that says "UNT" and chuckle to myself when I turn the handle and the joke becomes clear. I spot another mug that's fashioned to look like a prescription bottle. Another that looks like a donut. One that's covered in chalkboard. And a half dozen that probably change when hot liquid is added to it. I settle on a plain-looking mug with a ceramic octopus inside and pour myself some coffee. I set the mug on the counter and squat down, digging through the mini fridge for some milk. There's organic soy milk in here, and I can't help but wonder who it belongs to.

"Peetha Mellark," a sweet voice rings through the air.

I smile as I stand and turn to find Delhi behind me, wearing a tank top and short pajama bottoms. Her arms are folded at her chest, and her weight is shifted to one foot. A smirk is playing on her lips.

"Morning, Delhi."

"'Morning, Delhi?' That's all you have to say?" She's poorly holding back her laughter.

"Um... Well..."

"You look so guilty! 'I think there could be something there.' That's what you said, right? You _think_?" I blush and she laughs, dropping her arms and taking a step towards me.

"Yeah, well. Sometimes things move fast, right?" Or slow. Sometimes things move slow.

"I suppose so." She takes note of the mug in my hand. "That's Katniss's favorite coffee mug."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, she says we can use any of them, except that one. But I have a feeling she won't mind _you_ using it." Delhi picks up another plain looking mug. "This one's appropriate for today."

"These are all Katniss's?" I ask.

"Yep. She drinks so much coffee, it's amazing she sleeps at all." Delhi pours herself a cup. "The soy milk is mine, though." She pours soy milk into her cup and takes a long, slow gulp, allowing me to see the writing on the bottom of the cup: _I'm a bitch._

"That's quite a collection she's got here."

"Yep. I expect you'll decide on a favorite now too, huh?" She gives me a knowing smile. "So, things went well?" I give her a questioning look. "Are those scratches on your side?"

I exhale as I look down. These scratches are worse than I thought, and they give me away, so I nod my head as I pull my pants up even higher on my hips. "Yeah... How did it go for you?"

Delhi's smile disappears and she sighs heavily. "She didn't come home." Delhi sets her mug on the counter and leans against it with her hands flat on the surface.

I reach out and put my hand over hers. "It'll be okay. You'll see."

Delhi turns to face me. "Thanks, Peetha. You know, you've been a good friend."

Only for the past day, but I smile anyway.

The front door opens and I pull my hand away. I take a step back as Delhi accidentally knocks over her mug, spilling coffee onto the counter. "Shit!" she curses. She yanks a kitchen towel off the counter and begins to clean up the mess. I reach for a roll of paper towels and take a step towards her. "I've got it," she snaps.

"I bet you do," an unfamiliar voice says. Delhi freezes. Coffee spills off of the counter and begins to puddle on the floor as Delhi turns around, her hands held up in mock surrender. I can only assume that the tall, blonde, busty young woman who has appeared in the kitchen, glaring daggers at me, is Madge.

"It's not what it looks like," Delhi begins. Madge purses her lips as her gaze moves to Delhi.

"Looks like there's a half-naked guy in the kitchen with you," Madge says. Her voice is even, but she's seething. Anyone can see that.

"Then it's not what you're thinking," Delhi clarifies.

"What am I thinking?"

Delhi sighs. "Nothing happened."

Madge rolls her eyes. "I don't want to talk about this now. Not with him here."

I clear my throat. "I'm Peetha."

"I know who you are."

"He's here for Katniss," Delhi explains.

Madge's brow knits together. "Katniss?"

Delhi takes a step closer. Madge takes a step back.

"Please don't..." Delhi wraps her arms around herself. "Can we talk?"

Madge's eyes drift over to me again, and I suddenly feel that much more uncomfortable.

"He's with Katniss," Delhi insists. Madge raises her eyebrows at me and I nod my head.

"Okay. Let's talk." Madge sighs. "But, I need a shower."

Delhi gestures to the bathroom. "Okay. I'll be waiting for you."

Madge looks me up and down once more before walking past the kitchen area. I hear her footsteps as she moves down the hall, and the click of the door as she enters their bedroom. Delhi steps back into the kitchen and attempts to clean up the spilled coffee.

"You should go after her," I say.

Delhi nods her head quickly and too much as she backs away. She disappears down the hallway, while I clean up her mess.

I've just put the spoiled paper towels into the trash and rinsed out the mug when I hear movement behind me. What now?

"Peetha, right?"

"Yeah?" I raise my eyebrows as I take in the sight of yet another girl behind me. This one's also blonde, and her hands shimmer as she rubs them together as though she's applying lotion.

"Stacy, remember?" I stare harder, but I don't recognize her. She holds up her shimmery hands. "Cato calls me Glimmer."

"Oh. Right. Hi."

"Hi... what are you doing here?"

"Cleaning up coffee."

"No, I mean…" She points down the hallway. "Who?" She smirks at me.

"Oh, um, Katniss."

Glimmer nods her head. "Interesting."

"Why's that?"

"No reason... You know, you're really different looking."

"Different how?"

"It's your eyes... They look almost blue."

I smile politely, resisting the urge to roll my _almost_ _blue_ eyes. I take a step to the side. I really need to get the fuck out of this kitchen. Delhi's relationship drama was enough. Now I need to deal with this girl?

"So..." Stacy leans forward with her elbows on the table, revealing her cleavage to me. I force my gaze away. "If we were to get married, would my parents have to, like, give your parents a whole bunch of gold?"

Oh, great. She's an idiot, too.

"Actually, my parents prefer their payment in cattle."

She cocks her head to the side. "Are you messing with me?"

I nod my head once. "Yes, I am."

"Oh." She smiles widely. "I was just wondering."

"Most people do. But not everyone asks." I wave at her as I step backwards, towards Katniss's room.

She smiles as she wiggles her fingers at me. "See you around, Peetha."

I dart back into Katniss's room, and sigh in relief too soon when I realize that Johanna is still in here. She's looking at me with barely contained amusement.

"New nickname. Blue eyes."

I groan as I reach for my shirt and look around for my keys.

"And I knew I was right about Madge and Delhi! Those two were so obviously fucking."

"So you heard everything and left me out there to deal with all of it?"

"You seemed to have it under control." She shuts her book and sets it on the bed next to her.

"Thanks Johanna."

"You can call me Jo. You gonna go see Katniss shoot?"

"Yeah... But I need a shower first."

"You're welcome to take one here."

"In guy hell?" I shake my head. "No thanks."

Xoxoxo

When I step out of the shower and into my room, my phone is buzzing on my bed. It's my parents' number. I let it go to voicemail. I don't feel like talking to Amma or Daddy. I wouldn't mind a word with Ry, though. Maybe later, once I've gathered my thoughts a bit.

"What are you up to today? Finnick asks.

"I think I'm gonna head over to the Palladium. See Katniss shoot."

"Your girl is one of the archery girls?" I nod my head. "Dude! I'm coming with you!"

"No fucking way."

Finnick rolls his eyes. "I told you weeks ago I want to go check out the archery girls."

"They're not all girls." Because apparently Gale shoots too. "And it's not an official team."

"Whatever. So I guess you like Indian chicks after all, huh?"

"She's mixed."

"And it turns out you're fucking a star athlete!"

"I'm not fucking her."

"Well, you're not dating her."

I frown at that. He's right. I haven't taken her out on a date. "I'm taking her out. Maybe tonight," I lie. I have no idea what she's up to tonight.

"On a Sunday?"

"What's it to you?"

"Doesn't matter at all." Finnick folds his arms over his chest. "How's she in bed?"

"Nick-"

"That good, huh?" He raises his eyebrows at me.

"I'm not telling you anything."

"You're no fun. Can we get going already?"

Xoxoxox

Katniss stands in the center of the large room, with a dark wooden bow in her left hand. She raises it, pulling back on the string and holding it against her lips as she aims.

"That's your girl, right?" Finnick asks.

I shush him as I concentrate on Katniss. The mehndi design on her hands and arms is still dark against her skin, looking like an extension of the bow. She's dressed in a black tank top and bicycle shorts. She looks gorgeous...professional, focused and strong, yet still delicate. I don't realize I'm breathing in time with her until she releases the arrow. It soars across the room and finds purchase in the red circle attached to a mannequin.

Wow. She _is_ really good.

There's a group of people gathered behind her, each holding their own bows. They begin to applaud her and that's when I see that Gale is among her admirers.

"Nice job, Catnip." He steps towards her and offers his fist to bump.

"Thanks."

She spins around, still smiling, and her eyes fall on me. Is it my imagination, or does her smile widen? She waves and gestures for me to come closer.

"You made it!" Her eyes drift to Finnick beside me. "Nick, right?"

"That's right."

She nods her head. "You've got a comfortable bed," she teases and raises an eyebrow at him.

Gale clears his throat beside her.

"Thanks. You're welcome any time. Just you, though." Finnick says.

"Nick," I scold.

"What? She knows I'm just playing." Katniss laughs. "See?"

Gale clears his throat again.

"Okay, okay. Gale, you remember Peetha. This is his roommate, Nick."

"Nice to meet you, Gale," Finnick says as I nod at Gale once. Gale nods in return, but his face remains a stern mask. I accidentally smile in amusement . Clearly he'd like a word with me.

"You guys want to work out a bit?" Katniss gestures to the doors that lead to the main area. There are probably hundreds of treadmills out there, but the place is always packed. I nod my head and follow her out the door. Gale stays behind, watching as we all leave the room. He heads back to the group of people gathered, tending to their bows.

I turn back to Katniss. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Ask me while we run." She takes off, darting through the room and yanking off her shoes. Fuck, she's fast. She drops her shoes onto one machine and quickly hop on the one next to it. Then she turns back and holds up two fingers to me.

"That's all you, man," Finnick says.

I leave Finnick in the main gym, and make my way over to Katniss. I hand her the shoes she was using to save my place. "Thanks. And damn, you're quick."

"Have to be around here."

"Thanks for not kicking me out of bed." Her eyes widen and she turns away. Shit. Was that the wrong thing to say?

"You looked comfortable."

"I slept better with you in my arms than I have in months." Until she was gone. Then the nightmares began.

She tries not to smile as she pushes a few buttons on the screen and begins running at a quick pace.

"What did you want... to ask me?"

Not to be outdone, I set my machine at a higher incline than she has and I crank up the intensity, too. I let a few minutes go by as I enjoy the rush of adrenaline from exercise. "Can I... take you out... tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"On a date." She turns her head, giving me a confused look. "I was thinking... I could take you out... on a date."

"A date?"

"Yeah."

"That's sweet... But, Gale's only really got Sundays... and I think he likes saving them for me."

"Gale?" I stop running and let the machine deposit me at the end of the conveyer belt.

"Shit..." She turns to face me. "It's not a date or anything. Just, we get dinner. Catch up on things...you want to come?"

"No." I clear my throat. "I mean, no. I wouldn't want to impose on your time with your friends." I'm not that kind of guy.

She steps off of her treadmill too. We don't stray far, though. We know there are people just itching to use these machines. Her hands are on her hips as she breathes heavily. "Peetha, I've never really had a steady boyfriend before, so I don't know how this goes..."

Boyfriend? Does she want me to be her boyfriend?

"Does Gale make you uncomfortable?" she asks.

I open my mouth to respond, to lie to her and say no. Just then, Gale passes us, running backwards through the machines and grinning at Katniss. "Come on, Kat. Why are you slacking?" he teases.

Katniss only smiles in return.

"When you're done playing around with Peetha, I'll give you a real workout." He looks at me and raises his eyebrows a few times. I narrow my eyes at him, but he only turns and keeps running.

"What the hell was that supposed to mean?" I say.

Katniss rolls her eyes. "I'm supposed to be practicing. If we don't take ourselves seriously, then why should the athletics department, right?"

Oh. Right. Maybe Gale wasn't fucking with me. He said he'd _give_ her a workout...not _work_ _her_ _out_... I try to push my jealousy aside.

"He seems happy here."

"Yeah," Katniss nods. "He's only really alive when he's got a bow in his hands. He runs these practices, you know."

"So, he's like the team captain?"

"Not technically, since we're not really a team. Though if we have enough support we will be. For now, we're registered with the rec center as a group activity. So we don't have guaranteed gym time. They don't care, though." She points to a group of girls who are wearing too much make up to be in a gym. "They think he's a captain. They're happy if they get to ogle him for 5 minutes. It kind of makes me jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Yeah, jealous. Good shooting partners are hard to find." she says.

"Gale's your partner?"

"Yeah."

"And your friend."

"Yeah."

"Then... I suppose I can learn to like him."

"Really?" I nod my head. She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me. "Thanks, Peetha." She pulls away too quickly. "I should get back."

"Okay."

"Did you want to do something - maybe Monday after class?"

"Do something?"

"Something fun," she suggests. "Just the two of us."

I smile at her. "Sure."

Xoxoxo

I'm not sure how long I've been sitting at my desk, staring at my laptop. I've got Word open, and my name written in big block letters across the screen. The beginnings of my resume.

This is how I'm spending my Sunday evening. Fuck my life.

Let's see. Work experience. Well, I've been working in my parents' restaurant since long before it was legal for me to. Do I want a job in food service? Probably not. I've got a 3.7 GPA. Maybe I should go after a tutoring job? Or how hard could it be to get a job in a lab? Nah, I don't want to do that.

"This sucks," I complain.

Finnick is sitting on his bed with an economics textbook open and a short length of rope in his hands. He ties and unties knots as he studies, a habit he has to keep his hands busy. He picked it up back when he was a Boy Scout.

"Organic chem?"

"That's easy compared to this. I need a job."

"A job? With your course load?"

"I'm thinking of changing my major."

Finnick looks up, meeting my eyes. "To what?"

I shrug my shoulders. "Art history? Or maybe computer science? Can I do both?"

Finnick studies me face for a moment. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," I say quietly.

"This isn't about the girl, is it?"

"Why would it be about the girl?"

"I don't know. You've always just kept your head down and studied science. Now you're talking about getting a job and studying art. Next thing I know you'll be applying for a semester at sea."

"Seems more like your kind of thing."

"Who cares, man? The point is you're acting funny."

I sigh as I shut my laptop. "My parents are gonna cut me off soon."

"Oh... Did they say why?"

"Because I'm not engaged to a nice Indian girl."

"What, you mean Delhi?"

I chuckle under my breath. "She's not even an option. Aw man, this whole arranged marriage thing is so far removed from anything relevant to my life."

"They want you to marry a Brahmin girl?"

"I suppose a blonde-haired, blue-eyed American would do too, provided that she's a cultural blank slate." My parents would probably approve of an orphan, or someone equally available to marry _into_ the family. Someone willing to take on their traditions. Someone open to raising our children the way that they raised me. "But as luck would have it, the Brahmin girls are starting to claim them, too." My words don't sound like my own. Since when did I become so cynical?

"What?"

"Don't tell anyone," I say in vain. Finnick's trustworthy, and he'll help me talk through this. "Delhi's dating her roommate."

"No... shit... That's awesome!"

"If things were different, it could be. For now, it's a pain in my ass." I lie flat on my back and scrub my face with my hands. "I have to tell my parents that we're not going to be together soon. And then, they'll cut me off."

"Because you're not marrying Delhi?"

"Because I'm not marrying anyone."

"Well, what about your girl?"

"Katniss?"

"Yeah. She's Indian."

I shake my head. "Even if all goes well with her, we wouldn't get engaged before my parents' deadline. She's not what my mother would call acceptable anyway. Her family is from a lower caste. Plus she's half Trinidadian."

"So hot." I shoot him a look. "I mean, so. So? What does that matter? You're in America."

"It doesn't matter to me. It matters to my parents."

"Yeah, but why?"

"Because, they're Brahmin." Finnick blinks at me once, twice, and I realize he has no idea what being Brahmin _means_. I sigh. "I told you about dharma, right? Your duty in life."

"Yeah. You showed me videos of Ry's thread ceremony." Finnick chuckles. "I still can't believe he shaved his head."

"He had to. Well, think of it like this. You're born, you live, you die, and you're reborn. It's a cycle. If you fulfill your dharma in this life, you move on to something else in the next life."

"And if you don't?"

"You could live a thousand lifetimes. After the end of one cycle, you could move up, after another you-"

"Become a dung beetle?"

I roll my eyes. "If that's how it makes sense to you."

"Isn't that how reincarnation works?"

"Not really."

"You live over and over and over," Finnick gestures with his hands. "You're trying to reach nirvana, right?"

"Sort of. I mean, the way I understand it, there's spiritual clarity in this life, there's becoming one with a higher power, and then there's freedom from the cycle of life and death."

"And which is nirvana?"

"Technically they all are. But, I'm gonna guess you're thinking of freedom from the cycle, which anyone can get. But becoming one with god is something Brahmins strive for. I guess when you marry another Brahmin, the idea is to choose a mate that you can be happy with eternally."

"Okay...? So...?"

"So that's it."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

"So then who cares if your girl isn't Brahmin? Why does it matter?"

"Oh... Well... I'm not sure..."

"Just because she can't become one with god with you?" Finnick chuckles. "Marriage is until death do you part."

"Not in Hinduism."

"Kind of reminds me of that movie, Pawn Shop Chronicles."

I give him a confused look. "In what way?"

"You know, when the white supremacist dudes-"

"Okay, I'm definitely explaining this wrong. Maybe you should ask Ry or one of my cousins."

"I get the jist. Just hear me out."

"You're talking about white supremacists. The people who appropriated the svastika."

Finnick smiles. "Didn't you get in trouble over svastikas once?"

"Nick-"

"Okay, okay, not the point."

"Oh, you have a point?"

"_The_ _point_ is that they were talking about how they don't know why they're supposed to hate Jews. And that - surprise! They actually kind of like Jews. And black people. And that they only go to white power meetings for the snacks."

I chuckle. "That's different than the caste system."

Finnick weighs the idea. "It's all discrimination to me."

"Fair point. The caste system obviously has no place in American society. I mean this is supposed to be the land of opportunity, where you can make your own destiny, right? Rags to riches and all that shit."

"Yeah, in theory." He picks up his economics textbook. "Wanna know what the job market is gonna be like when we graduate?"

"Taking one Econ class does not make you an economist." I wave my hand dismissively.

"Whatever."

"But you're right. A society run on a caste system definitely doesn't allow for much wiggle room. That's one of the reasons why it's not technically in use anymore."

"Well... We're friends. Have been for years. Your parents don't seem to mind that I'm Cubano."

"That's different."

"How?"

"I guess because being friends with you won't lead to half Cuban grandkids."

"And half Cuban grandkids would be the worst thing?"

"I mean, _I_ don't think so."

"You and me could make some gorgeous test-tube babies, Peetha."

I laugh a little. "Probably. Let's not even begin to talk about homosexuality." I sigh. "Delhi's got hell to look forward to." She'll have to tell her parents that were not going to be together too. And eventually, she'll have to discuss her sexuality with them.

"Maybe it won't be so bad."

I shrug my shoulders. It probably will be. Her parents have abnormally high standards for her. The fact that she's here and not at an Ivy was big talk a few years ago. It's unfortunate, but her parents will take the news of our lack of relationship as badly as mine will...and news of her sexual orientation as a disappointment.

"I just don't get it. I mean, if you have a girl who's beautiful, which Katniss definitely is, and smart, I mean she goes _here_, right? And we saw today that she can shoot and outrun you, so she's athletic, plus she puts up with your ass. What should her caste matter?"

"It shouldn't." But... it does. "I mean, inter-caste marriages have been legal in India since the 50s."

"So what's the problem?"

"It's not a legal issue. It's religious."

"You're not exactly the most observant Hindu I've ever met."

"You're not exactly a model Catholic either."

"No, I pick and choose what out of Christianity works for me. I think it's called being a 'cafeteria Christian.' Are there 'cafeteria Hindus' too?"

"I don't think I have an answer that's gonna satisfy you."

"Well try."

"I keep telling you those aren't my views. But I was raised in a Hindu household, by devoted parents. I wouldn't choose to show them disrespect if I could avoid it."

"Isn't the ultimatum they gave you disrespectful to you?"

I nod my head. "They must have their reasons. If I can figure out what they are, maybe we can find some common ground. Until then, I need to learn to stand on my own two feet."

"Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me." Finnick shrugs his shoulders and returns to his reading.

I roll my eyes and reach for my organic chemistry textbook. Now, I'm stressed. I'll revisit the resume thing later. Finnick looks up from his book.

"Sorry, Peetha. Just... try not to give in to it."

I look up.

"It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart." He looks down at the rope in his hands and then he tosses it to me. "Here. Try doing the bowline knot I showed you. Remember... the rabbit comes out of the hole..."

I pick up the knot and recite the rest of the mnemonic with him.

"...around the tree, and back in the hole."

I hold up the completed knot. "Got it."

"Good." Finnick smiles at me, then returns to his reading.

I practice a few more knots.

Xoxoxo

Thin layer chromatography fails to hold my attention. I've never been so eager for a class to end. I'm sketching the results section of the experiment when somehow a K appears in my chromatograph. Yeah. It's time to go.

"I'll finish these at home," I insist. "See ya, Blight."

He doesn't argue. I don't think he wants to sit here comparing sketches any more than I do. We can work on our results sections individually. It's not a big deal. "Sure. See you Wednesday, Peetha."

I nod my head. Finally, he says my name right. I yank my bag over my shoulder and make my way out of the classroom.

Stepping into the hallway, I smile as I see Katniss waiting for me. She's turned away from me, leaning against a wall wearing jeans and a long sweater. Her dark braid travels down her spine, curling at the tip in the center of her back.

"Hey there." I reach out and tug gently in her braid.

She turns and faces me. "Hi."

I want to lean in and kiss her hello... but I don't. I don't know how she feels about PDA. I'm not sure how I feel about PDA either. "So, what did you have in mind for today?"

"You hungry?" I nod my head. "Hmm... How about we get some falafel and iced tea?"

"Mamoun's?" I suggest.

"Of course."

As we walk through the narrow streets of the East Village, I smile. I'm no longer following the girl with the dark braid home. She's no longer another familiar stranger along my route, a shadow on my routine. She's here, next to me.

I hold the door open for her as she steps into our building. Our walk home has been filled with easy banter, but once inside the elevator, the mood noticeably shifts. I reach for her hand, smiling as she allows me to pull her closer.

"Your place or mine?"

"Mine," I insist. "I'm still recovering from my last visit to guy hell."

Katniss chuckles, but she doesn't object. Our fingers are interlaced as we enter my suite, and thankfully none of my suite mates can be found.

"Man, that was quite a day. Three of your roommates and Gale in a matter of hours."

"Are you not getting enough attention?" She teases as she drops her bag down and sits on my bed.

"Well, I don't have much competition here." And to keep it that way, I put a sock on the doorknob.

"You don't have much competition anywhere."

Her words give me pause. When I turn around to face her, I find that she's rummaging through my dresser drawers, frowning as she pushes garments out of her way.

"What are you looking for?"

"Your T-shirt collection."

"Bottom drawer," I tell her. She bends over, and I stare at her ass while she searches through my things. She glances at me over her shoulder.

"What are you looking at?"

"Your ass... what? It's nice."

She rolls her eyes as she retrieves a shirt and stands up, tossing it to me. I catch it. It's a blue shirt with "If life gives you melons, you may be dyslexic" written across the chest. I yank the plain black shirt I'm already wearing off and toss it in the direction of my hamper.

"Even though I'm not wearing a sari?"

"_Especially_ since you're not wearing a sari. Though, I did enjoy the sari striptease you gave me the other night. That was my first one of those."

"Really? Not into many Indian girls?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I'm into you."

"I'm barely Indian, Peetha."

That's exactly what I like about her. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I open it to find a new message from Delhi. "Speaking of Indian girls..."

_Can we talk?_

I furrow my brow. What could she possibly want to talk about? I've had enough of her drama with Madge to last me a while.

"Delhi?"

"Yeah."

_I'm with Katniss right now. Everything okay?_

_Yea. Just got off the phone with my Amma. Was hoping you were around._

"Peetha?"

"Huh?" Katniss forces my gaze up and I smile as my eyes fall on hers. My phone buzzes again.

_It's not important. We can talk about it later._

"You okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"So... are you gonna put the shirt on?"

"Oh. Yeah." I close my phone and tuck it into my pocket. Then, I pull my shirt down over my head. "Good?"

Katniss nods her approval.

"So, what were you saying? Me… No competition... best thing that ever happened to you..."

She smirks at me. "I don't remember that last part."

"Oh right." I wrap my fingers around her wrists and pull her closer. "That's what I was thinking."

I lean in and kiss her. Her lips are curled into a smile against me as I let my hands wander, sliding down her sides and lifting her onto my desk. She parts her knees and I step between them.

"You're quite the sweet talker, aren't you?"

I don't answer. Instead I bite my bottom lip as I slowly slide my hand underneath her shirt. She sighs as my fingertips graze her stomach. I lean in, kissing a trail across her jaw and down her throat.

"I thought you wanted to go to Mamoun's."

"They're open late," I murmur against her skin. "Right now I want to do this." I bite gently and she gasps, then laughs lightly in pleasure.

"We should put a sock on the doorknob."

"I already did."

She pulls away, shaking her head at me but still smiling. "You sneaky little bastard."

"It was just so we could have some privacy." My hands drift down and I undo the top button of her jeans. Her smile fades as her eyes cloud with lust. "It's a good thing I did it, though. Otherwise Nick might catch us on this desk."

"And what exactly would he catch us doing?"

She shuts her eyes as I slip my hand inside of her jeans, rubbing her gently over her underwear. "This."

"That could be awkward," she muses.

"Exactly."

She rocks her hips, moving against my hand. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asks. Her voice is thick with need.

I still my hand and look into her eyes. She can't know, but my talk with Finnick has helped me sort things out. I know I want her. I want to try for something real with her... maybe something that could lead to a love marriage. But I don't tell her that. It's far too soon. I think.

"I want to do whatever will make you happy."

She smiles devilishly and reaches for my belt buckle. She keeps her eyes locked on me as she loosens the clasp. Her lips part, there are words on the tip of her tongue - words I'm suddenly desperate to hear. But then sound of Metallica coming though the walls forces us out of our trance.

God damn it, Cato.

She laughs quietly, leaning forward and kissing me again, but it's only a few seconds before the music fully kills the vibe. This can't be the soundtrack for our first time together. She shakes her head as I pull away.

"Let's go get something to eat."


End file.
